■BOOK 


m  c.  heath  &.  mmm  wt 

BOSTOJSF   •   "NEW  YORK   •   CHICAGO 


H^3*7 


THE    HEATH    READERS 
BY    GRADES 


BOOK    FIVE 


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EIGHT  BOOK  SERIES 


THE 


HEATH   READERS 


BY    GRADES 


BOOK   FIVE 


BOSTON,   U.S.A. 

D.    C.    HEATH   &   CO.,  PUBLISHERS 

1907 


EDUCATION  DEPfc 


The  publishers  are  under  obligations  to  Messrs.  Little,  Brown  &  Company  for 
permission  to  reprint  poems  by  Helen  Hunt  Jackson  and  Susan  Coolidge.  The 
selections  from  Longfellow,  Lowell,  Hawthorne,  Whittier,  Saxe,  and  Lucy  Larcom 
are  used  by  permission  of  the  publishers  of  the  works  of  these  authors,  Houghton, 
Mifflin  &  Company,  and  by  special  arrangement  with  them. 

COPYRIGHT,  1903  and  1907,  by  D.  C.  HEATH  &  COMPANY. 


CONTENTS 


The  Thistle 

The  Snail 

The  Three  Giants 

September 

The  Buckwheat 

"So-so"     . 

How  the  Leaves  came  down    . 

The  Old  Man  of  the  Meadow 

Daybreak  .... 

The  Four  Clever  Brothers    . 

Song 

Reynard  the  Fox     . 
The  Singing  Lesson 
The  Magic  Mill 
The  Blind  Men  and  the  Ele- 
phant .... 
Timothy's  Shoes 
The  Little  Match-girl  . 
The  Corn  Song 
Ali,  the  Boy  Camel:driver 
The  Eagle         .... 
Troy  and  the  Wooden  Horse 
Goodness  .        .        .        . 
The  Village  Blacksmith 
The  Flying  Trunk    . 
The  Wind  and  the  Moon 
Perfection        .... 
The  Greedy  Shepherd     . 
A  Tale  of  a  Forest  Fire 
The  First  Snowfall 


Kate  Louise  Brown 
Willia?n  Cowper    . 
Lydia  Maria  Child 
Helen  Hunt  Jackson 
Hans  Christian  Anderseti 
Juliana  Horatia  Ewing 
Susan  Coolidge 
Julia  MacNair  Wright 
Henry  IV.  Longfellow 
J.  and  W.  Grimm 
Robe?'t  Browning  . 


Jean  Ingelow 
From  the  Norwegian 


John  G.  Saxe 
Juliana  Horatia  Ewj^ig 
Hans  Christian  Anderjgn 
John  G.  Whittier 


Alfred  Tennyson 


Marcus  Aurelius 
Henry  W.  Longfellow^  . 
Hans  Christian  Andersen 
George  MacDo?iald 
William  Shakespeare     . 
Frances  Browne    . 

James  Russell  Lowell 


7    ' 
13   ' 


22 


*3 

27  2^ 

35  \ 

371 
42  ^ 

44 1 
5i  » 
52 
59 1 
61  » 

67  I 

70 

78  / 
82/ 

86 
90 1 
91 
94  I 
96 
98 
108  \ 

ml 

122 
129  \ 


543a 15 


6                                         CONTENTS 

A  Lively  Sled-ride  . 

Frank  R.  Stockton 

PAGE 

132  1 

The  Story  of  Ali  Cogia  . 

Arabian  Nights     . 

1 381 

Light 

F.  W.  Boiirdillon 

150' 

Winter  Rain     .... 

Christina  Georgina  Rossetti 

151/ 

Nests 

John  Ruskin 

152 

A  Story  of  the  Springtime     . 

Grace  H.  Kupfer  . 

153  ^ 

The  Pine-tree  Shilling  . 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne   . 

'59  J, 

Little  and  Great    . 

Charles  Mackay     . 

166  ' 

John  Ridd  and  Lorna  Doone  . 

Richard  D.  Black  more  . 

168  ' 

The  Brook         .... 

Alfred  Tennyson  . 

184 

Hare-and-hounds  at  Rugby     . 

188 ' 

The  Bluebird    .... 

John  Burroughs    . 

196  ' 

The  Greenwood  Thee 

William  Shakespeare    . 

198 

George  Washington 

Thomas  W.  Higginson  . 

200  I 

March 

Williajn  Wordsworth   . 

208  I 

The  Dog  that  Lied  . 

Jean  Aicard 

209  1 

The  Owl 

Alfred  Tennyson  . 

217  1 

Maggie  visits  the  Gypsies 

George  Eliot 

218  1 

Calling  the  Violet  . 

Lucy  Larcom 

235  l 

The  Prodigal  Son    . 

The  Bible      . 

237  l 

To  Violets         .... 

Robert  Henick 

240 

Whang,  the  Miller 

Oliver  Goldsmith  . 

,  241  I 

Benjamin  Franklin  .        . 

Autobiography 

246  1 

Spring  Greeting 

Sidney  Lanier 

254  ' 

The  Spacious  Firmament  on 

High    .        .        .        .    ■     . 

Joseph  Addison 

255  1 

X 


BOOK    FIVE. 


THE    THISTLE. 

KATE  LOUISE   BROWN. 

It  was  a  beautiful  day  late  in  August.  The  leaves 
on  the  maples  were  beginning  to  redden.  Cardinal 
flowers  stood  up  brave  and  ruddy  beside  the  stream. 
In  the  dry  grass  each  little  brown,  green,  or  gray- 
clad  brother  of  the  stubble  did  his  part  in  the  late 
summer  chorus. 

Alice  lay  upon  the  ground,  gazing  dreamily  at  the 
sky.  She  had  come  out  by  herself  to  look  for  milk- 
weed pods.  Her  basket,  nearly  full,  lay  by  her  side. 
She  was  rather  tired  and  a  bit  sober.  Soon  she 
drew  a  long  sigh. 

11  Look  out !  "  said  a  sharp  voice,  "  you  nearly  blew 
me  out  of  this  thistle.  You  mortals  are  as  bad  as 
the  wind." 

Alice  looked  about,  but  saw  no  one  save  a  great 
burly  bee,  grumbling  among  the  purple  thistle 
threads. 

"  Yes,  I  spoke,"  said  the  bee. 

"  I  didn't  know  bees  could  talk,"  replied  Alice,  in 
great  wonder. 

7 


8  BOOK    FIVE 

"  That  proves  how  little  you  know  in  spite  of 
your  size,"  said  the  bee,  saucily. 

"  I'm  sure  I  am  very  glad  to  find  it  out,"  replied 
the  child,  humbly.  "  I  have  been  learning  something 
new  every  day." 

"  Now,  /  don't  have  to,"  remarked  the  bee.  "  I 
know  it  all  to  begin  with." 

"  I  would  rather  find  things  out.  Surprises  are 
such  fun,"  said  Alice. 

"That's  the  way  you  look  at  it,"  said  the  bee, 
loftily.  "  But  then  you  can't  help  it,  being  only  a 
girl.     Can  you  make  honey  ?  " 

"  No,  but  I  can  eat  it." 

"  Do  you  have  baskets  in  your  hind  legs  ?  Can 
you  pack  them  full  with  pollen  ? " 

"  Now  see  here,  Sir  Bee,"  said  another  voice,  "  I 
shall  not  allow  you  to  treat  my  visitor  so  rudely. 
You  are  nearly  drunk  with  the  nectar  you  have 
taken  from  me.     Off  with  you  !  " 

"  You're  the  stiffest  old  lady  I  ever  saw,  Madam 
Thistle.     I  shall  not  trouble  you  again." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  will !  We  thistles  are  the  refuge 
of  you  great  fellows  after  all  else  has  failed.  Go 
away,  I  tell  you !  " 

"I'm   going.      Good-by,   little   girl.      Good-by!" 

"  Can  you  talk,  also  ?  "  cried  Alice,  looking  up  at 
the  great  thistle  stalk  bending  over  her. 


THE   THISTLE  9 

"  Everything  in  nature  talks,  but  only  a  few  mor- 
tals have  the  ears  to  hear,"  replied  the  thistle. 

"  But  I  understand  you  perfectly,"  said  Alice,  in 
great  wonder. 

"That  is  because  you  love  us,"  said  the  thistle. 
"  I  knew  it  the  minute  you  came  here.  You  said, 
1  Oh,  what  a  splendid  thistle !  I  never  saw  such  a 
big  one.'  Now  a  great  many  people  would  have 
added,  '  What  horrid  spines  ! '  " 

"  I  can't  say  I  like  your  spines,"  said  Alice,  hon- 
estly. "  I  suppose  you  have  good  reason  for  grow- 
ing them." 

"  Of  course  I  have !  If  you  knew  my  life,  and  all 
I  have  to  contend  with,  you  would  not  wonder." 

"  I  should  like  very  much  to  know.  Whatever 
you  have  had  to  try  you,  you  have  come  out  ahead. 
I  never  saw  so  tall  a  thistle !  Why,  you  are  nearly 
three  feet  high." 

11  That's  so,"  said  the  thistle,  "  and  my  spines  are 
very  strong." 

"  Why  do  you  have  them  ?  " 

u  Well,"  replied  the  thistle,  "  I  have  a  great  objec- 
tion to  being  eaten  up.  The  cows  graze  in  this 
pasture,  and  if  I  did  not  arm  myself  with  these 
spines  they  would  have  me !  But  I  do  not  wish  to 
live  through  the  season  for  myself  alone.  I  have 
some  little  seed  children  to  send  out  into  the  world. 


io  BOOK   FIVE 

Every  mother  desires  life  for  the  sake  of  her  chil- 
dren." 

"Why,  of  course,"  said  Alice;  "it  is  perfectly 
right  to  grow  spines  for  protection.  The  roses  do, 
and  a  good  many  other  plants.  You  have  a  very 
pretty  cluster  of  leaves  close  to  the  ground.  They 
spread  out  like  a  green  rosette.  Some  of  them 
are  nearly  a  foot  long.  I  have  seen  these  rosettes 
in  the  field  without  any  stalk  and  blossoms.  I  have 
stepped  on  them  when  I  was  barefoot." 

"  I'm  sorry,  Alice,  but  we  thistles  must  live.  We 
have  to  be  fighters.     How  do  you  like  my  leaves  ?  " 

"  They  are  very  curious.  I  see  they  are  put  on 
alternately,  and  grow  shorter  as  they  near  the  top." 

"  Do  you  notice  what  stout  midribs  they  have  ? 
That  is  because  my  leaf  is  so  long.  I  like  to  stand 
my  leaves  out,  and  not  let  them  droop.  Everything 
in  a  thistle  means  pluck,  endurance,  firmness.  We 
are  the  true  warriors  of  the  field." 

"  Your  leaf  reminds  me  a  little  of  the  dandelion's. 
It  is  cut  in  gashes,  then  it  runs  out  in  a  set  of  points. 
The  centre  is  the  longest.  Each  point  ends  with  a 
spine." 

"  If  you  look  on  the  under  side  of  the  leaf,  Alice, 
you  will  see  that  the  spine  is  the  midrib  of  the 
leaflet.  It  grows  hard  as  it  runs  toward  the  end. 
It  says  to  itself :  '  I  have  two  things  to  do.     I  must 


THE   THISTLE 


I  T 


support  my  leaflet  and  make  it  stand  out  like  a 
banner.  I  must  also  have  a  sharp  little  sword  to 
protect  my  leaf.'  " 

"  Your  stalk  is  covered  with  little  hairs,  I  see." 


"  Yes ;  I  don't  intend  that  any  bugs  shall  come 
crawling  up  me.  But  my  blossom,  Alice,  —  that  is 
my  crown  of  joy." 

"  I  don't  wonder,  Madam  Thistle.  It  looks  like 
a  green  jar  swelling  out  at  the  sides  and  tapering 
toward  the  top.  Mother  has  a  vase  shaped  just  like 
it.  Your  vase  is  crowded  full  with  clusters  of  lovely 
purple  threads.     They  are  like  silken  fringes." 

"  If  you  will  look  into  this  vase,  you  will  see  a 
bunch  of  shorter  threads  in  the  centre.  They  are 
very  white  and  silky.     Pull  out  one  of  the  purple 


12  BOOK   FIVE 

threads  and  you  will  find  a  bunch  of  silky  hairs 
clinging  to  it.  By  and  by  purple  threads  will  push 
up  through  the  white  bunch  in  the  centre.  My 
blossom  will  be  beautiful  then.  It  will  be  richer 
than  a  king's  royal  robe.  It  will  be  a  perfect  store- 
house of  sweets,  and  the  bees  will  have  a  feast. 

"  By  and  by  my  bright  crown  will  fade  and  grow 
brown  and  dry.  The  winds  of  autumn  will  beat 
upon  me.  I  shall  spread  my  vase  open  wide,  and 
out  will  fly  a  host  of  little  winged  creatures.  Here 
is  one  now,  Alice.  I  send  it  to  you  from  this  faded 
blossom  of  mine." 

Something  tickled  Alice's  cheek,  and  she  opened 
her  eyes.  She  put  up  her  hand  and  caught  the 
visitor  that  Madam  Thistle  had  sent  to  her.  It  was 
a  little,  hard,  flat  seed  case  of  light  yellowish  brown. 
A  withered  thistle  thread  hung  to  it,  and  on  either 
side  were  tufts  of  white  silk. 

"  I  suppose  I've  been  asleep,"  said  Alice.  "  At 
any  rate  Madam  Thistle  has  been  talking  to  me." 

stub'ble,  short,  dry  grass, 
bur'ly,  rude ;  rough. 


mor'tals,  human  beings. 

sau'ci  ly,  rudely. 

con  tend',  to  strive  ;  to  try  earnestly. 

Ob  jec'tion,  a  reason  or  feeling  against 

a  thing. 
en  dur'ance,  ability  to  hold  out. 

Kate  Louise  Brown  is  an  American  writer  of  stories  and 
poems  for  children. 


protec'tion,  something  which   keeps 

one  from  harm. 
ro  sette',  an  object  arranged  like  the 

petals  of  a  full-blown  rose, 
al'ter  nate  ly,  singly  and  at  different 

heights  on  opposite  sides  of  stem, 
host,  a  great  many. 


THE   SNAIL  13 

THE    SNAIL. 

WILLIAM  COWPER. 

To  grass,  or  leaf,  or  fruit,  or  wall, 
The  snail  sticks  close,  nor  fears  to  fall, 
As  if  he  grew  there,  house  and  all 
Together. 

Within  that  house  secure  he  hides, 
When  danger  imminent  betides 
Of  storm,  or  other  harm  besides 
Of  weather. 

Give  but  his  horns  the  slightest  touch, 
His  self-collecting  power  is  such, 
He  shrinks  into  his  house,  with  much 
Displeasure. 

Where'er  he  dwells,  he  dwells  alone, 
Except  himself  has  chattels  none, 
Well  satisfied  to  be  his  own 

Whole  treasure. 

Thus  hermit-like,  his  life  he  leads, 
Nor  partner  of  his  banquet  needs, 
And  if  he  meets  one,  only  feeds 
The  faster. 


BOOK   FIVE 


Who  seeks  him  must  be  worse  than  blind 
(He  and  his  house  are  so  combined,) 
If,  finding  it,  he  fails  to  find 
Its  master. 


im'mi  nent,  close  at  hand. 

her'mit,   one   who  lives  apart   from 


be  tide',  to  happen. 

chat'tels,  wealth  ;  movable  property. 


others.  ban'quet,  feast. 

William  Cowper  (i  731-1800)  is  one  of  the  most  popular  of 
the  English  poets  who  wrote  in  the  eighteenth  century. 


THE    THREE    GIANTS. 

LYDIA  MARIA  CHILD. 


It  was  a  dull  day;  nothing  but  rain,  rain, 
rain.  The  old  rooster  walked  slowly  about  the 
yard.  His  head  was  damp,  his  tail  was  wet,  and 
he  looked  very  unhappy.  He  made  one  faint 
attempt  to  crow,  but  stopped  in  the  middle  of  it. 

The  boys  laughed  to  hear  him,  and  Frank  tried 
to  draw  his  picture  on  a  slate,  but  soon  rubbed  it 
out  again.  He  tried  next  to  draw  the  cat,  asleep 
in  an  arm-chair.  That  pleased  him  no  better.  The 
fact  was,  Frank  wanted  to  be  out  of  doors. 

"  Oh,  dear !  "  he  said  at  last,  "  I  wish  there  were 
some  giants  living  now.     I  should  like  to  see  one 


THE   THREE    GIANTS 


T5 


of  them  carry  this  house  on  his  shoulders,  and 
place  it  where  the  sun  shines." 

"  What  makes  you  talk  so  ?  "  said  Harry.  "  You 
know  very  well  there  never  was  such  a  thing  as  a 
real  giant.  All  such  stories  are  made  up.  For  my 
part,  I  like  to  read  about  real  things." 

"  I  said  I  wished  there  were  real  giants,"  replied 
Frank ;  "  and  I  do  wish  it.  I  saw  a  man  they  called 
a  giant  once ;  but  he  was  only  a  tall  fellow,  with  big 
bones.  He  could  do  nothing  but  stand  up  to  be 
looked  at.  I  should  like  one  of  those  old  giants 
that  could  do  such  wonderful  things." 

Their  mother,  who  was  sitting  near,  heard  the 
boys  talking,  and  said :  "  What  if  I  should  tell 
you  that  there  are  real  giants  now,  who  do 
quite  as  wonderful  things  as  any  you  ever  read 
of?" 

"  I  should  like  to  see  some  of  their  doings,"  said 
Harry;  "but  I  think  Mother  means  some  kind  of 
riddle." 

His  mother  smiled  and  said:  "I  will  tell  you 
about  three  giants  who  are  as  old  as  the  hills,  and 
are  very  strong. 

"  The  first  one  is  very  wilful.  If  people  want 
him  to  do  anything,  sometimes  he  will  and  some- 
times he  won't.  He  snaps  off  trees,  or  pulls  them 
up  by  the  roots.     Sometimes  he  runs  over  the  sea 


1 6  BOOK   FIVE 

in  a  hurry,  and  piles  up  the  waves  into  huge  heaps, 
like  mountains. 

"  He  upsets  boats  full  of  men  in  his  fury,  and 
dashes  great  ships  to  pieces  against  the  rocks. 
But  when  he  likes  to  be  quiet,  he  plays  with  the 
flowers,  and  they  are  so  pleased  with  his  whistling 
that  they  dance  for  joy.  This  strong  giant  is  so 
obliging  sometimes  that  he  makes  large,  beautiful 
soap-bubbles,  and  blows  them  about  to  amuse  little 
children. 

"  If  you  want  him  to  do  anything  useful,  he  is 
seldom  ready.  At  times  he  will  remain  drowsy  for 
several  days,  and  refuse  to  do  anything,  either  for 
work  or  fun.  Then,  perhaps,  he  will  begin  in  a 
great  hurry  to  do  the  work  you  want.  In  a  few 
minutes  he  will  grind  stacks  of  corn  to  powder, 
and  will  do  scores  of  other  things  of  which  I  have 
not  time  to  tell  you  now." 

"  What  does  the  giant  look  like?"  inquired  Frank. 

"  It  is  very  hard  to  say  what  he  is  like.  I  often 
hear  him  singing  and  whistling,  and  sometimes  in 
the  garden  he  snatches  the  bonnet  from  my  head, 
and  is  off  before  I  can  catch  a  glimpse  of  him." 

"  Has  he  a  name,  Mother?  "  asked  Frank. 

"  I  don't  know  what  he  calls  himself,"  replied  his 
mother ;  "  but  on  account  of  his  wild  ways,  I  call 
him  Harry  Whirligig." 


THE   THREE    GIANTS  17 


II. 


"What  is  the  second  giant  like?"  asked  the  boys. 

"  Well,"  said  the  mother,  "  he  is  more  quiet  than 
his  brother,  but  just  as  powerful.  It  is  wonderful 
what  a  great  weight  he  can  carry,  without  minding 
it  any  more  than  you  would  the  lifting  of  a  feather. 
He  carries  tons  and  tons  of  grain,  and  coal,  and  mar- 
ble, and  iron,  thousands  of  miles  without  stopping, 
yet  you  never  see  the  slightest  scar  on  his  back. 

"  He  is  a  very  good  giant,  and  he  is  constantly 
giving  food  to  men  and  animals.  He  has  numbers 
of  jewels,  and  I  have  seen  where  he  has  thrown 
them  by  handfuls  on  cobwebs  or  on  the  grass. 
Sometimes  he  hangs  them  in  the  air,  and  when  the 
sun  shines  on  them  there  is  a  beautiful  show  of 
colors. 

"  He  is  not  lazy  like  his  brother,  as  he  saws 
boards  and  grinds  corn,  week  after  week,  and  never 
runs  away  and  leaves  his  work  like  Harry  Whirligig. 
When  he  is  alone  he  is  quiet  enough ;  but  when 
he  and  Harry  get  together,  they  make  mad  work. 
If  they  are  in  sport,  they  behave  like  wild  creatures; 
but  if  they  fight,  then,  indeed,  it  becomes  awful. 
They  will  snap  the  strongest  oak  timbers  as  if  they 
were  pipe  stems,  and  catch  up  huge  masses  of  iron 
and  smash  them  against  the  rocks. 


1 8  BOOK   FIVE 

"  But  if  left  alone,  the  giant  is  so  good-natured 
that  children  can  learn  to  manage  him.  But  chil- 
dren ought  to  be  very  sure  they  know  how  to  man- 
age him  before  they  trust  him  too  much ;  for  he  is 
a  hungry  giant,  and  has  eaten  up  many  boys  and 
girls,  and  men  and  animals." 

"  What  is  the  name  of  this  giant  ? "  inquired 
Frank. 

His  mother  replied :  "  On  account  of  his  taste  for 
fine  dresses,  I  think  I  will  call  him  Dick  Silverline. 
He  took  it  into  his  head  to  marry  a  very  sharp- 
tempered  fairy,  with  whom  he  was  always  fighting. 
She  was  always  put  out  if  he  touched  her,  and  if 
she  came  near  him,  he  began  to  swell  with  rage, 
and  to  spit  at  her,  as  a  cat  does  when  she  sees  a 
dog. 

"  She  is  a  very  hungry  fairy,  and  will  eat  almost 
everything  she  comes  near.  She  often  does  more 
harm  than  good  because  of  this.  But  when  she  is 
well  guarded,  she  can  be  very  useful." 

III. 

"  Silverline  and  his  wife  had  one  son,  who  proved 
to  be  a  more  powerful  giant  than  his  father.  But 
he  was  a  lazy  fellow  when  he  was  a  boy.  He  never 
told  anybody  how  strong  he  was ;  for  he  liked  play, 
and  did  not  wish  to  be  set  to  work. 


THE  THREE  GIANTS 


20  BOOK   FIVE 

"  At  last  a  man,  who  saw  him  lift  the  cover  from 
a  kettle  with  his  little  finger,  said  to  himself :  *  It  is 
a  shame  for  that  strong  fellow  to  go  idling  about  as 
he  does.  If  he  can  do  so  much  with  one  of  his  lit- 
tle fingers,  he  can,  most  likely,  do  more  heavy  work 
than  ten  yoke  of  oxen,  if  I  can  only  get  him  into 
harness/ 

"  But  the  giant  didn't  like  to  be  shut  up ;  and  when 
they  caged  him  to  see  how  much  he  could  do,  he 
would  get  into  a  violent  rage,  and  burst  open  the 
strongest  door  they  could  make.  At  last  they  man- 
aged to  get  this  artful  giant  to  work  in  good  earnest. 
It  is  wonderful  to  see  what  work  he  does. 

"  He  pulls  large  ships  through  the  sea,  and  on  land 
drags  after  him  great  loads  of  iron  and  stone.  He 
carries  thousands  of  people  long  distances  in  a  few 
hours.  He  is  in  such  furious  haste,  that  if  any  one 
gets  in  his  way,  he  rushes  over  them.  If  anything 
goes  wrong  with  him,  he  is  more  dangerous  than  his 
father  or  mother. 

"  He  is  not  at  all  quiet  like  his  father.  He  goes 
tearing  along  like  a  mad  thing;  keeps  up  a  great 
roaring  and  hissing,  and  is  even  more  noisy  than  his 
uncle  Whirligig.  Dogs  and  birds  cannot  ride  on 
his  back.  They  all  rush  out  of  his  way  when  they 
hear  him  coming  It  is  very  dangerous  for  children 
to  go  near  him;  for  if  they  come  in  his  way,  he 


THE   THREE   GIANTS  21 

knocks  them  down  quickly,  and  never  stops  to  see 
whether  they  are  picked  up. 

"And  yet  —  would  you  believe  it?  —  this  great 
giant  will  never  stir  a  single  step  unless  his  father 
and  mother  are  with  him,  so  that  when  men  need 
his  services,  they  have  to  take  them  both  along  with 
him.  On  account  of  his  flurry  and  bluster,  I  call 
him  Tom  Fizzaway." 

"  I  know  him !  I  know  him ! "  exclaimed  Frank. 
"  I  know  all  these  giants  you  have  been  talking 
about." 

"  Well,  tell  me  whether  they  are  not  real  giants  ?  " 
said  his  mother. 

"  To  be  sure  they  are.  Real,  great,  strong  giants, 
stronger  than  a  thousand  such  as  Jack  climbed  the 
bean-stalk  to  kill." 


sel'dom,  not  often. 
drow'sy,  sleepy;  dull, 
score,  twenty. 
pow'er  ful,  strong. 
sharp-tem'pered,  cross. 


slight'est,  least ;  smallest, 
vi'  0  lent,  fierce;  severe, 
art'ful,  skilful;  tricky, 
flur'ry,  bustle;  haste, 
blus'ter,  noise. 


Mrs.  Lydia  Maria  Child  (1802-1880)  was  an  American  writer 
whose  work  was  very  popular  at  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth 
century. 

Every  one  has  a  place  to  fill  in  the  world,  and  is 
important  in  some  way,  whether  he  chooses  to  be 
SO  or  not.  — Hawthorne. 


22 


BOOK    FIVE 


SEPTEMBER. 

HELEN   HUNT    JACKSON. 

The  golden-rod  is  yellow; 

The  corn  is  turning  brown ; 
The  trees  in  apple  orchards 

With  fruit  are  bending  down. 

The  gentian's  bluest  fringes 
Are  curling  in  the  sun ; 

In  dusky  pods  the  milkweed 
Its  hidden  silk  has  spun. 

The  sedges  flaunt  their  harvest 
In  every  meadow  nook ; 


SEPTEMBER 


23 


And  asters  by  the  brookside 
Make  asters  in  the  brook. 

From  dewy  lanes  at  morning 
The  grapes'  sweet  odors  rise ; 

At  noon  the  roads  all  flutter 
With  golden  butterflies. 

By  all  these  lovely  tokens 

September  days  are  here, 
With  summer's  best  of  weather, 

And  autumn's  best  of  cheer. 

Mrs.  Helen  Hunt  Jackson  was  born  in  Massachusetts  in  1831, 
and  died  in  California  in  1885.  She  wrote  stories  for  children, 
and  many  beautiful  poems.  She  was  deeply  interested  in  the 
Indians,  and  wrote  a  novel,  "  Ramona,"  in  their  behalf.  As  an 
author  she  signed  herself  "  H.  H." 


24  BOOK   FIVE 

THE     BUCKWHEAT. 

HANS  CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN. 

When  you  pass  a  field  of  buckwheat  after  a 
thunderstorm,  you  can  often  see  that  it  looks  black 
and  scorched.  The  farmers  say,  "  The  lightning 
has  scorched  it,"  but  one  might  ask  why  should  the 
lightning  do  it  ?  I  will  tell  you  what  a  sparrow  told 
me,  and  he  heard  it  from  an  old  willow  tree,  which 
stood  close  by  a  field  of  buckwheat. 

In  all  the  surrounding  fields  there  grew  fine  crops 
of  wheat,  barley,  and  oats.  The  wheat  field  was  the 
most  flourishing,  and  the  heavier  it  was  with  golden 
grain,  the  lower  it  bent  down  in  humility  and  meek- 
ness. But  the  buckwheat  did  not  bend  like  the 
rest  of  the  grain,  but  stood  up  proudly  and  stiffly. 

"  I  am  quite  as  rich  as  the  best  of  them,"  it  said, 
"and  much  more  beautiful,  for  my  flower  is  as  lovely 
as  the  rosy  apple  blossoms.  Do  you  know  anything 
so  beautiful  and  stately  as  I  am,  you  sleepy  old 
willow  ? " 

The  willow  nodded  its  head,  as  much  as  to  say, 
"  Oh,  yes,  indeed  I  do."  But  the  buckwheat  only 
became  more  boastful,  and  said  proudly,  "  That 
stupid  tree  is  so  old  that  grass  and  weeds  are  grow- 
ing all  over  its  body." 


THE   BUCKWHEAT  25 

A  dreadful  storm  was  coming  on,  and  all  the  little 
flowers  in  the  fields  folded  up  their  tender  leaves,  or 
meekly  bowed  down  their  faces  to  the  ground.  But 
the  buckwheat  held  its  head  higher  than  before. 

"  Bend  your  head  down  as  we  do,"  the  kind  flowers 
whispered. 

"  I  don't  see  why  I  should."  the  buckwheat 
replied. 

"  Bend  down  your  head  as  we  do,"  cried  the  wheat, 
and  the  barley,  and  the  oats ;  "  for  the  angel  of  the 
storm  is  coming.  He  has  wings  that  reach  from 
the  clouds  down  to  the  lowest  depths  of  the  val- 
leys, and  he  will  destroy  you  before  you  have  time 
to  cry  for  mercy." 

"  Let  him,"  said  the  buckwheat ;  "  I  will  not 
humble  myself." 

"  Shut  up  your  flowers  and  draw  in  your  leaves," 
the  old  willow  tree  said.  "  Don't  look  up  at  the 
lightning  when  the  cloud  bursts.  Even  men  are 
afraid  to  do  that.  If  they  did  look,  they  would 
become  blind,  and  what,  then,  would  happen  to  us 
who  are  far  more  feeble  ?  " 

"  More  feeble,  you  say  ?  "  cried  the  buckwheat,  with 
scorn.  "  Now,  whatever  happens,  I  will  look  right 
into  heaven."  And  in  its  pride  it  did  so.  It 
seemed  as  if  all  the  world  were  on  fire,  so  vivid  was 
the  lightning. 


26 


BOOK   FIVE 


When  the  storm  had  passed  away,  the  flowers  and 
corn  lifted  up  their  heads,  refreshed  by  the  rain. 
But  the  buckwheat  was  so  scorched  by  the  lightning 
that  it  was  as  black  as  a  coal,  and  was  like  a  dead 
weed,  fit  only  to  be  rooted  up  and  burned. 

The  old  willow  tree  waved  its  branches  in  the 
wind,  and  great  drops  of  water  fell  from  its  leaves  as 
if  it  were  crying.  So  the  sparrows  said:  "Why 
are  you  crying?  It  is  very  beautiful  here.  How 
brightly  the  sun  shines,  and  how  briskly  the  clouds 
sail  along ! " 

The  willow  then  told  them  all  about  the  pride  of 
the  buckwheat,  and  the  punishment  which  it  had 
received.  I,  who  now  tell  you  this  story,  heard  it 
from  the  sparrows,  who  told  it  to  me  one  evening 
when  I  asked  them  for  a  tale. 


scorched,  burned  on  the  outside. 
sur  round'  ing,  lying  on  all  sides. 
flour'ish  ing,  thriving. 
hu  mil'i  ty,  lowliness  of  mind ;  meek- 
ness. 


state'ly,  grand;  graceful  and  tall, 
viv'id,  very  bright. 
re  freshed',  made  fresh  again, 
brisk'ly,  quickly;  gayly. 


Hans  Christian  Andersen  was  born  in  Denmark  in  1805  and 
died  in  1875.  He  was  the  son  of  a  poor  shoemaker,  and  his  child- 
hood was  full  of  hardships.  He  was  timid  and  awkward,  and  in 
"  The  Ugly  Duckling  "  gives  the  story  of  his  sufferings  as  a  boy. 
His  wonderful  ability  was  soon  discovered,  and  he  was  given  an  edu- 
cation at  the  expense  of  the  state,  and  the  king  of  Denmark  gave 
him  money.  His  fairy  tales  and  stories  have  been  translated  into 
many  languages  and  have  given  delight  to  thousands. 


"  so-so 


"  S  O-S  O. 


JULIANA  HORATIA  EWING. 
I. 

"  Be  sure,  my  child,"  said  the  widow  to  her  little 
daughter,  "that  you  always  do  just  as  you  are  told." 

*  Very  well,  Mother." 

"  Or  at  any  rate  do  what  will  do  just  as  well,"  said 
the  small  house-dog,  as  he  lay  blinking  at  the  fire. 

"  You  darling !  "  cried  little  Joan,  and  she  sat  down 
on  the  hearth  and  hugged  him.  But  he  got  up  and 
shook  himself,  and  moved  three  turns  nearer  the 
oven,  to  be  out  of  the  way.  For  though  her  arms 
were  soft,  she  had  kept  her  doll  in  them,  and  it 
was  made  of  wood,  which  hurts. 

"What  a  dear,  kind  house-dog  you  are ! "  said  little 
Joan,  and  she  meant  what  she  said,  for  it  does  feel 
nice  to  have  the  sharp  edges  of  one's  duty  a  little 
softened  off  for  one. 

He  was  no  particular  kind  of  a  dog,  but  he  was 
very  smooth  to  stroke,  and  had  a  nice  way  of  blink- 
ing with  his  eyes,  which  it  was  soothing  to  see. 
There  had  been  a  difficulty  about  his  name.  The 
name  of  the  house-dog  before  him  was  Faithful,  and 
well  it  became  him,  as  his  tombstone  testified.  The 
one  before  that  was  called  Wolf.      He  was  very 


28  BOOK   FIVE 

wild,  and  ended  his  days  on  the  gallows,  for  worry- 
ing sheep. 

The  little  house-dog  never  chased  anything  —  to 
the  widow's  knowledge.  There  was  no  reason  what- 
ever for  giving  him  a  bad  name,  and  she  thought  of 
some  good  ones,  such  as  Faithful,  and  Trusty,  and 
Keeper,  which  are  fine  old-fashioned  titles,  but  none 
of  these  seemed  to  suit  him  perfectly.  So  he  was 
called  So-so ;  and  a  very  nice  soft  name  it  is. 

The  widow  was  only  a  poor  woman,  though  she 
contrived  by  her  industry  to  keep  a  decent  home  to- 
gether, and  to  get  now  one  and  now  another  little 
comfort  for  herself  and  her  child. 

One  day  she  called  her  little  daughter  and  said  to 
her:  "  I  am  going  out  for  two  hours.  You  are  too 
young  to  protect  yourself  and  the  house,  and  So-so 
is  not  as  strong  as  Faithful  was.  But  when  I  go, 
shut  the  house-door  and  bolt  the  big  wooden  bar, 
and  be  sure  that  you  do  not  open  it  for  any  reason 
whatever  till  I  return. 

"  If  strangers  come,  So-so  may  bark,  for  he  can  do 
that  as  well  as  a  larger  dog.  Then  they  will  go  away. 
With  this  summer's  savings  I  have  bought  a  quilted 
petticoat  for  you  and  a  dufrle  cloak  for  myself  against 
the  winter,  and  if  I  get  the  work  I  am  going  after 
to-day,  I  shall  buy  enough  wool  to  knit  warm  stock- 
ings for  us  both.     So  be  patient  till  I  return,  and 


"  SO-SO  "  29 

then  we  will  have  the  plum-cake  that  is  in  the  cup- 
board for  tea." 

"  Thank  you,  Mother." 

"  Good-by,  my  child.  Be  sure  you  do  just  as  I 
have  told  you,"  said  the  widow. 

"  Very  well,  Mother." 

Little  Joan  laid  down  her  doll,  and  shut  the  door, 
and  fastened  the  big  bolt.  It  was  very  heavy,  and 
the  kitchen  looked  gloomy  when  she  had  done  it. 

"  I  wish  Mother  had  taken  us  all  three  with  her, 
and  had  locked  the  house  and  put  the  key  in  her 
big  pocket,  as  she  has  done  before,"  said  little  Joan, 
as  she  got  into  the  rocking-chair,  to  put  her  doll  to 
sleep. 

"Yes,  it  would  have  done  just  as  well,"  So-so 
replied,  as  he  stretched  himself  on  the  hearth. 

By  and  by  Joan  grew  tired  of  singing  to  the  doll, 
who  looked  none  the  sleepier  for  it,  and  she  took  the 
three-legged  stool  and  sat  down  in  front  of  the  clock 
to  watch  the  hands.  After  a  while  she  drew  a  deep 
sigh. 

"  There  are  sixty  seconds  in  every  single  minute, 
So-so,"  said  she. 

"So  I  have  heard,"  said  So-so.  He  was  snuffing 
in  the  cupboard,  which  was  not  usually  allowed. 

"  And  sixty  whole  minutes  in  every  hour,  So-so." 

"  You  don't  say  so ! "  growled   So-so.     He   had 


30  BOOK   FIVE 

not  found  a  bit,  and  the  cake  was  on  the  top  shelf. 
There  was  not  so  much  as  a  spilt  crumb,  though  he 
snuffed  in  every  corner  of  the  kitchen,  till  he  stood 
snuffing  under  the  house-door. 

"  The  air  smells  fresh,"  he  said. 

"  It's  a  beautiful  day,  I  know,"  said  little  Joan. 
"  I  wish  Mother  had  allowed  us  to  sit  on  the  door- 
step.    We  could  have  taken  care  of  the  house  ~  " 

"  Just  as  well,"  said  So-so. 

Little  Joan  came  to  smell  the  air  at  the  key-hole, 
and,  as  So-so  had  said,  it  smelt  very  fresh.  Be- 
sides, one  could  see  from  the  window  how  fine  the 
afternoon  was. 

"  It's  not  exactly  what  Mother  told  us  to  do,"  said 
Joan,  "  but  I  do  believe  —  " 

"  It  would  do  just  as  well,"  said  So-so. 

II. 

By  and  by  little  Joan  unfastened  the  bar,  and 
opened  the  door,  and  she  and  the  doll  and  So-so 
went  out  and  sat  on  the  doorstep.  Not  a  stranger 
was  to  be  seen.  The  sun  shone  delightfully.  All 
day  it  had  been  ripening  the  corn  in  the  field  close 
by,  and  this  glowed  and  waved  in  the  breeze. 

"  It  does  just  as  well,  and  better,"  said  little  Joan, 
"  for  if  any  one  comes,  we  can  see  him  coming  up 
the  field  path." 


JOAN   AND   SO-SO 


32  BOOK   FIVE 

"Just  so,"  said  So-so,  blinking  in  the  sunshine. 

Suddenly  Joan  jumped  up. 

"  Oh ! "  cried  she,  "  there's  a  bird,  a  big  bird. 
Dear  So-so,  can  you  see  him  ?  I  can't,  because  of 
the  sun.  What  a  queer  noise  he  makes.  Crake ! 
crake !  Oh,  I  can  see  him  now !  He  is  not  flying, 
he  is  running,  and  he  has  gone  into  the  corn.  I  do 
wish  I  were  in  the  corn,  I  would  catch  him,  and  put 
him  in  a  cage." 

"  I'll  catch  him,"  said  So-so,  and  he  put  up  his 
tail,  and  started  off. 

"  No,  no ! "  cried  Joan.  "  You  are  not  to  go. 
You  must  stay  and  take  care  of  the  house,  and  bark 
if  any  one  comes." 

"You  could  scream,  and  that  would  do  just  as 
well,"  replied  So-so,  with  his  tail  still  up. 

"  No,  it  wouldn't,"  cried  little  Joan. 

"  Yes,  it  would,"  said  So-so  again. 

While  they  were  bickering,  an  old  woman  came 
up  to  the  door.  She  had  a  brown  face,  and  black 
hair,  and  a  very  old  red  cloak. 

"Good  evening,  my  little  dear,"  said  she.  "  e 
you  all  at  home  this  fine  evening  ? " 

"  Only  three  of  us,"  said  Joan ;  "  I,  and  my  doll, 
and  So-so.  Mother  has  gone  to  the  town,  and  we 
are  taking  care  of  the  house,  but  So-so  wants  to  go 
after  the  bird  we  saw  run  into  the  corn." 


"SO-SO"  33 

"  Was  it  a  pretty  bird,  my  little  dear  ?  "  asked  the 
old  woman. 

"  It  was  a  very  curious  one,"  said  Joan,  "and  I 
should  like  to  go  after  it  myself,  but  we  can't  leave 
the  house." 

"  Dear,  dear !  Is  there  no  neighbor  who  would 
sit  on  the  doorstep  for  you  and  keep  the  house  till 
you  just  slip  down  to  the  field  after  the  curious 
bird?"  said  the  old  woman. 

"I'm  afraid  not,"  said  little  Joan.  "Old  Martha, 
our  neighbor,  is  now  bedridden.  Of  course,  if  she 
had  been  able  to  mind  the  house  instead  of  us,  it 
would  have  done  just  as  well." 

M  I  have  some  distance  to  go  this  evening,"  said 
the  old  woman,  "but  I  do  not  object  to  a  few 
minutes'  rest.  Rather  than  have  you  lose  the  bird 
I  will  sit  on  the  doorstep  to  oblige  you,  while  you 
run  down  to  the  field." 

"  But  can  you  bark  if  any  one  comes  ?  "  asked  lit- 
tle Joan.     "  For  if  you  can't,  So-so  must  stay  with 

n 

4 1  can  call  you  and  the  dog  rf  I  see  any  one 
c  jming,  and  that  will  do  just  as  well,"  said  the  old 
woman. 

"  So  it  will,"  replied  little  Joan,  and  off  she  ran  to 
the  field,  where,  for  that  matter,  So-so  had  run 
before   her,   and   was   bounding  and    barking   and 


34    '  BOOK   FIVE 

springing  among  the  wheat  stalks.  They  did  not 
catch  the  bird,  though  they  stayed  longer  than 
they  had  intended,  and  though  So-so  seemed  to 
know  more  about  hunting  than  was  supposed. 

"  I  dare  say  Mother  has  come  home,"  said  little 
Joan,  as  they  went  back  up  the  path.  "  I  hope  she 
won't  think  we  ought  to  have  stayed  in  the  house." 

"  It  was  taken  care  of,"  said  So-so,  "  and  that 
must  do  just  as  well." 

When  they  reached  the  house,  the  widow  had 
not  come  home.  But  the  old  woman  had  gone,  and 
she  had  taken  the  quilted  petticoat  and  the  duffle 
cloak,  and  the  plum-cake  from  the  top  shelf  away 
with  her;  and  no  more  was  ever  heard  of  any  of 
the  lot. 

"  For  the  future,  my  child,"  said  the  widow,  "  I 
hope  you  will  always  do  just  as  you  are  told,  what- 
ever So-so  may  say." 

"  I  will,  Mother,"  said  little  Joan.  (And  she  did.) 
But  the  house-dog  sat  and  blinked.  He  dared  not 
speak  —  he  was  in  disgrace. 

I  do  not  feel  quite  sure  about  So-so.  Wild  dogs 
often  amend  their  ways  far  on  this  side  of  the  gal- 
lows, and  the  faithful  sometimes  fall ;  but  when  any 
one  begins  by  being  only  So-so,  he  is  very  apt  to  be 
So-so  to  the  end. 

But  this  one  was  very  soft  and  nice,  and  he  got 


HOW  THE   LEAVES  CAME   DOWN 


35 


no  cake  that  teatime.     On  the  whole,  we  will  hope 
that  he  lived  to  be  a  good  dog  ever  after. 


particular,  single;  special, 
gal'lows  (gal'loz),  a  framework  upon 

which    the   condemned   may  be 

hanged. 
dif7 fi  cul  ty,  trouble, 
tes'ti  fied,  bore  witness. 
con  trived',  managed. 


in'dus  try,  steady  attention  to  work, 
com' fort,  pleasure. 
duffle,  a  kind  of  coarse  woollen  cloth, 
bick'er  ing,  disputing. 
bed'rid  den,  kept  to  one's  bed  by  sick- 
ness or  age. 


Mrs.  Juliana  Horatia  Ewing  (1841-1885)  was  an  English- 
woman who  wrote  charming  stories  for  both  old  and  young.  Her 
most  famous  books  are  "  Jackanapes  "  and  "  The  Story  of  a  Short 
Life." 


HOW   THE  LEAVES    CAME    DOWN. 

SUSAN  COOLIDGE. 

"/'zz  tell  you  how  the  leaves  came  down," 
The  great  tree  to  his  children  said: 

"  You're  getting  sleepy,  Yellow  and  Brown, 
Yes,  very  sleepy,  little  Red." 

"  Ah  !  "  begged  each  silly  pouting  leaf, 

"  Let  us  a  little  longer  stay ; 
Dear  Father  Tree,  behold  our  grief ; 

'Tis  such  a  very  pleasant  day, 

We  do  not  want  to  go  away." 

So,  just  for  one  more  merry  day 

To  the  great  tree  the  leaflets  clung, 
Frolicked  and  danced,  and  had  their  way, 


36  BOOK   FIVE 

Upon  the  autumn  breezes  swung, 
Whispering  all  their  sports  among. 

"  Perhaps  the  great  tree  will  forget, 

And  let  us  stay  until  the  spring, 
If  we  all  beg,  and  coax,  and  fret." 

But  the  great  tree  did  no  such  thing; 

He  smiled  to  hear  their  whispering. 

"  Come,  children  all,  to  bed,"  he  cried ; 

And  ere  the  leaves  could  urge  their  prayer, 

He  shook  his  head,  and  far  and  wide, 
Fluttering  and  rustling  everywhere, 
Down  sped  the  leaflets  through  the  air. 

I  saw  them ;  on  the  ground  they  lay, 
Golden  and  red,  a  huddled  swarm, 

Waiting  till  one  from  far  away, 

White  bedclothes  heaped  upon  her  arm, 
Should  come  to  wrap  them  safe  and  warm. 

The  great  bare  tree  looked  down  and  smiled. 

"  Good  night,  dear  little  leaves,"  he  said. 
And  from  below  each  sleepy  child 

Replied,  "  Good  night,"  and  murmured, 

"  It  is  so  nice  to  go  to  bed ! " 

hud'dled,  crowded.  |     sped,  made  haste.  urge,  to  ask  earnestly. 

Sarah  Chauncey  Woolsey,  who  writes  under  the  name  of 
"Susan  Coolidge,"  was  born  in  Cleveland,  Ohio,  in  1845.  Her 
best  stories  and  verses  are  those  written  for  girls  and  boys. 


THE   OLD   MAN    OF   THE   MEADOW  37 

THE   OLD   MAN   OF  THE   MEADOW. 

JULIA  MacNAIR  WRIGHT. 

When  I  was  a  little  girl,  I  caught  a  grasshopper 
and  put  him  into  a  bottle.  Then  I  sat  down  out- 
side the  bottle,  and  looked  at  the  grasshopper.  He 
sat  inside  the  bottle,  and  looked  at  me. 

It  began  to  grow  upon  my  mind  that  the  grass- 
hopper looked  much  like  an  old  man.  His  face, 
with  the  big,  solemn  eyes  and  straight  mouth,  was 
like  an  old  man's  face.  He  wore  a  gray  coat,  like 
a  loose  duster.  He  had  a  wrinkled  greenish  vest. 
He  wore  knee-breeches  and  long  red  stockings. 

The  more  I  looked  at  him,  the  more  he  looked 
like  a  little,  grave,  old-time  man  who  came  to  visit 
my  aged  grandfather.  But  I  thought  my  grasshop- 
per in  the  bottle  felt  like  a  prisoner.  I  said,  "  Now 
you  may  go,  my  Old  Man  of  the  Meadow." 

I  took  the  cork  out  of  the  bottle.  The  grass- 
hopper at  once  leaped  up,  and  sat  on  the  rim  of  the 
bottle.  Then  a  strange  thing  happened.  The  Old 
Man  of  the  Meadow  spread  out  two  wide  brown 
wings.  They  had  a  broad,  lemon-colored  band  on 
them.  They  were  gay  as  the  wings  of  a  butterfly. 
On  them  he  sailed  away. 


38  BOOK    FIVE. 

I  could  hardly  believe  my  eyes.  I  ran  after  him  to 
a  tall  stalk  of  golden-rod.  There  he  sat,  a  plain,  gray- 
green  old  man.  But  again  he  spread  out  the  wide 
wings,  and  was  gone.  My  Old  Man  of  the  Meadow 
had  then  this  splendid  dress  coat  under  his  sober 
overcoat.  Seated  at  rest,  he  looked  plain  and  quiet, 
—  a  creature  of  the  earth.  Lifted  into  the  air,  he 
was  nearly  as  fine  as  a  butterfly. 

Do  you  not  wish  to  know  something  more  of  this 
Old  Man  of  the  Meadow,  the  grasshopper?  He 
lives  much  in  the  grass,  and  his  chief  motion  is  in 
hops,  or  long  jumps.  He  has  another  name,  "the 
murmurer."  This  is  given  him  because  of  the  noise 
or  song  he  makes.  His  song  is  loud  and  shrill.  It 
is  made  by  rubbing  his  wings  one  upon  the  other. 

He  has  a  little  piece  of  skin  like  a  tight  drum- 
head set  in  each  wing.  As  he  moves  his  wings, 
this  tiny  drum  vibrates,  or  trembles,  and  makes  the 
shrill  sound.  Mrs.  Grasshopper  does  not  have  this 
drum  in  her  wings. 

Let  us  take  a  closer  look  at  the  grasshopper.  As 
he  is  an  insect,  he  should  have  a  body  made  in  rings, 
in  three  parts,  with  four  wings  and  six  legs  set  on 
the  second,  or  chest  part. 

His  front  pair  of  legs  is  shorter  than  the  others. 
This  hinders  him  in  walking  over  a  level  surface. 
But  it  helps  him  in  walking  up  a  tree,  or  small 


THE  OLD  MAN  OF  THE  MEADOW      39 

plant,  or  a  wall.  See  the  hind  legs!  They  are 
more  than  twice  as  long  as  the  others.  The  thigh, 
or  upper  part,  is  very  long  and  strong.  By  means 
of  these  big  legs  the  grasshopper  is  a  famous 
jumper. 

Now,  if  you  have  a  grasshopper  to  look  at,  you 
will  see  that  the  feet  have  four  parts.  The  part  of 
the  leg  between  the  foot  and  the  thigh  has  sharp 
points  like  the  teeth  of  a  comb.  The  hind  part  of 
the  body  is  long  and  slender,  and,  being  made  of 
rings,  can  bend  easily.  In  the  great,  green  grass- 
hopper all  the  body  is  of  a  fine  green  tint. 

Let  us  look  at  the  wings.  The  upper  pair,  or 
wing-covers,  are  large  and  long.  Notice  two  things 
about  the  wings :  they  lap  at  the  tips,  and  are  high 
in  the  middle.  When  they  are  shut,  they  have  a 
shape  like  a  slanting  roof.  The  upper  ones  are 
longer  than  the  lower  ones. 

These  wing-cases  have  large  veins.  Lift  up  a 
wing-case  and  pull  out  a  lower  wing.  It  is  folded 
very  closely,  in  lengthwise  plaits.  Where  these 
wings  join  Mr.  Grasshopper's  body,  you  will  find 
his  drum  plate  for  making  music.  One  kind  of 
grasshopper  has  very  short  wing-covers.  In  that 
kind,  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Grasshopper  make  music. 
There  is  also  one  grasshopper,  a  little  green  fellow, 
that  has  no  drum,  and  is  silent 


4o  BOOK    FIVE 

The  upper  side  of  the  grasshopper's  chest  is 
shaped  like  a  great  horny  collar.  The  head  is 
large,  and  has  two  big,  glossy  eyes.  There  is,  also, 
a  knob  on  the  forehead.  Between  the  eyes  are  set 
the  feelers.  They  are  very  long,  even  longer  than 
all  the  body.  The  mouth  of  the  grasshopper  is 
wide,  and  it  has  strong  jaws.  But  they  are  not  so 
strong  as  those  of  his  cousin,  the  cricket. 

Grasshoppers  prefer  vegetable  food.  They  will 
sometimes  eat  animal  food.  When  two  are  shut  up 
in  a  box,  they  will  fight,  and  the  one  which  is  killed 
will  be  eaten  by  the  victor. 

If  you  could  look  inside  the  grasshopper's  body, 
you  would  see  that  he  has  a  gizzard  much  like 
that  of  a  chicken.  It  is  made  of  little  bands  set 
with  fine  teeth.  These  teeth  chew  up  into  a  pulp 
the  leaves  which  the  grasshopper  has  eaten.  After 
he  has  eaten  for  a  long  time,  he  sits  quite  still.  He 
looks  as  if  he  were  thinking.  Sometimes,  when  he 
sits  in  this  way,  he  moves  his  mouth  as  if  chewing. 
From  this  action,  people  used  to  think  that  he 
chewed  the  cud,  as  cows  and  sheep  do. 

But  he  does  not  chew  the  cud.  If  you  watch 
him  well,  in  these  silent  times,  you  will  see  him 
gravely  licking  his  long  feelers  and  his  lips.  He 
seems  to  be  cleaning  them.  To  do  this,  he  runs 
out  a  long,  limber  tongue,  shaped  much  like  yours. 


THE   OLD    MAN    OF   THE   MEADOW 


4i 


Ants  also  have  this  habit  of  cleaning  and  dressing 
themselves  after  eating. 

The  color  in  the  grasshopper  does  not  seem  to 
be  laid  on  the  surface  of  his  coat,  as  on  that  of  the 
beetle.  It  is  not  put  on  in  plumes  and  scales,  as 
the  butterfly  has  it.  But  it  is  dyed  through  and 
through  the  wings  and  body.  The  wing-cases 
and  the  rings  of  the  body  are  not  hard,  like  horn 
or  shell,  as  in  the  beetle  tribe.  They  are  of  a 
tough  skin,  and  are  dyed  with  the  color. 

The  grasshopper  is  not  migratory.  It  does  not 
change  its  home.  It  dies  near  where  it  was  born. 
Frost  and  cold  kill  it.  It  does  not  outlive  the 
winter,  as  butterflies,  bees,  and  wasps  do.  Each 
grasshopper  lives  alone.  He  does  nothing  for  his 
neighbor,  and  his  neighbor  does  nothing  for  him. 


sol'emn,  grave ;  serious. 

dust'er,  a  long  garment  or  covering 

to  protect  from  dust. 
plaits,  folds,  tucks. 


giz'zard,  the  second  stomach,  in  which 

the  food  is  ground  fine, 
mi'gra  to  ry,  wandering;  going  from 

one  home  to  another. 


Mrs.  Julia  MacNair  Wright  was  born  in  Oswego,  N.Y.,  in 
1840,  and  has  lived  for  many  years  in  Missouri.  She  has  written 
on  many  subjects,  but  her  most  popular  works  are  her  instructive 
nature  stories  for  children.  The  story  of  the  grasshopper  is  from 
the  "  Seaside  and  Wayside  "  books. 


Honor  and  shame  from  no  condition  rise; 
Act  well  your  part,  there  all  the  honor  lies. 


42 


BOOK   FIVE 


Guido  Reni 


DAYBREAK. 

HENRY  W.  LONGFELLOW. 

A  wind  came  up  out  of  the  sea, 

And  said,  "  O  mists,  make  room  for  me !  " 

It  hailed  the  ships,  and  cried,  "  Sail  on, 
Ye  mariners,  the  night  is  gone ! " 

And  hurried  landward  far  away, 
Crying,  "  Awake,  it  is  the  day ! " 

It  said  unto  the  forest,  "  Shout ! 
Hang  all  your  leafy  banners  out !  " 

It  touched  the  wood-bird's  folded  wing, 
And  saidp  "  O  bird,  awake  and  sing ! " 


DAYBREAK  43 

And  o'er  the  farms,  "  O  chanticleer, 
Your  clarion  blow ;  the  day  is  near ! " 

It  whispered  to  the  fields  of  corn, 

"  Bow  down,  and  hail  the  coming  morn  ! " 

It  shouted  through 'the  belfry  tower, 
"  Awake,  O  bell !  proclaim  the  hour." 

It  crossed  the  churchyard  with  a  sigh, 
And  said,  "  Not  yet !  in  quiet  lie." 

mar'i  ners,  sailors.  I  clar'i  on,  a  small  trumpet,  or  its  sound, 

chan'ti  cleer,  a  cock ;  rooster.  J      or  any  sound  like  it. 


Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow  was  born  at  Portland,  Me.,  in 
1807,  and  died  at  Cambridge,  Mass.,  in  1882.  He  is  one  of  the 
most  popular  of  American  poets.  "  Evangeline  "  and  "  Hiawatha" 
are  the  best  known  of  his  longer  poems.  "  The  Village  Black- 
smith "  (see  page  96),  "The  Children's  Hour,"  "Excelsior,"  and 
"The  Psalm  of  Life"  are  favorites  everywhere. 


44  BOOK   FIVE 


THE   FOUR  CLEVER   BROTHERS. 

J.  AND  W.  GRIMM. 
I. 

"  Dear  children,"  said  a  poor  man  to  his  four  sons, 
"  I  have  nothing  to  give  you ;  you  must  go  out  into 
the  world  and  .  try  your  luck.  Begin  by  learning 
some  trade,  and  see  how  you  can  get  on." 

So  the  four  brothers  took  their  walking-sticks  in 
their  hands,  and  their  little  bundles  on  their  shoulders, 
and,  after  bidding  their  father  good-by,  all  went  out 
at  the  gate  together.  When  they  had  gone  some 
distance,  they  came  to  four  cross-ways,  each  leading 
to  a  different  country. 

Then  the  eldest  said,  "  Here  we  must  part ;  but 
this  day  four  years  we  will  come  back  to  this  spot ; 
and  in  the  meantime  each  must  try  to  find  out  what 
he  can  do  for  himself."  So  each  brother  went  his 
way ;  and  as  the  oldest  was  hastening  on,  a  man  met 
him,  and  asked  him  where  he  was  going  and  what  he 
wanted. 

"  I  am  going  to  try  my  luck  in  the  world,  and 
should  like  to  begin  by  learning  a  trade,'"  answered  he. 

"  Then,"  said  the  man,  "  go  with  me,  and  I  will 
teach  you  how  to  become  the  cunningest  thief  that 
ever  was." 


THE   FOUR   CLEVER   BROTHERS  45 

"  No,"  said  the  other,  "  that  is  not  an  honest  call- 
ing, and  what  can  one  hope  to  earn  by  it  in  the  end 
but  the  gallows  ?  " 

"  Oh !  "  said  the  man,  "  you  need  not  fear  the  gal- 
lows ;  for  I  will  teach  you  to  steal  only  what  will  be 
fair  game.  I  meddle  with  nothing  that  any  one 
else  can  get  or  cares  about,  and  I  go  where  no  one 
can  find  me  out." 

So  the  young  man  agreed  to  follow  this  trade,  and 
he  soon  showed  himself  so  clever  that  nothing  could 
escape  him  that  he  had  once  set  his  mind  upon. 

The  second  brother  also  met  a  man,  who  asked 
him  what  trade  he  meant  to  learn. 

"  I  do  not  know  yet,"  said  he. 

"  Then  come  with  me,  and  be  a  star-gazer.  It  is 
a  noble  trade,  for  nothing  can  be  hidden  from  you 
when  you  understand  the  stars." 

The  plan  pleased  him  much,  and  he  soon  became 
such  a  skilful  star-gazer,  that  when  he  had  served 
out  his  time,  and  wanted  to  leave  his  master,  his 
master  gave  him  a  glass,  and  said,  "  With  this  you 
can  see  all  that  is  passing  in  the  sky  and  on  the 
earth,  and  nothing  can  be  hidden  from  you." 

The  third  brother  met  a  huntsman,  who  took 
him  and  taught  him  so  well  all  that  belonged  to 
hunting,  that  he  became  very  clever  in  that  trade. 
When  his  time  was  out,  his  master  gave  him  a  bow, 


46  BOOK   FIVE 

and  said,  "Whatever  you  shoot  at  with  this  bow, 
you  will  be  sure  to  hit." 

The  youngest  brother  likewise  met  a  man  who 
asked  him  what  he  wished  to  do. 

"  Would  not  you  like,"  said  he,  "  to  be  a  tailor  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no !  "  said  the  young  man  ;  "  sitting  cross- 
legged  from  morning  to  night,  working  backwards 
and  forwards  with  a  needle  and  goose,  will  never 
suit  me." 

"  Oh  !  "  answered  the  man,  "  that  is  not  my  sort 
of  tailoring ;  come  with  me,  and  you  will  learn  quite 
a  different  kind  of  trade  from  that." 

Knowing  nothing  better  to  do,  he  entered  into 
the  plan,  and  learnt  the  trade  from  the  beginning ; 
and  when  his  time  was  out,  his  master  gave  him  a 
needle,  and  said,  "  You  can  sew  anything  with  this, 
be  it  as  soft  as  an  egg}  or  as  hard  as  steel,  and  the 
joint  will  be  so  fine  that  no  seam  will  be  seen." 

II. 

After  the  space  of  four  years,  at  the  time  agreed 
upon,  the  four  brothers  met  at  the  four  cross-roads, 
and  having  welcomed  each  other,  set  off  toward 
their  father's  home,  where  they  told  him  all  that  had 
happened  to  them,  and  how  each  had  learned  some 
trade. 

Then  one  day,  as  they  were  sitting  before  the 


THE   FOUR   CLEVER   BROTHERS  47 

house  under  a  very  high  tree,  the  father  said,  "  I 
should  like  to  see  what  each  of  you  can  do  in  his 
trade." 

So  he  looked  up,  and  said  to  the  second  son,  "  At 
the  top  of  this  tree  there  is  a  chaffinch's  nest ;  tell 
me  how  many  eggs  there  are  in  it." 

The  star-gazer  took  his  glass,  looked  up,  and  said, 
-Five." 

"  Now,"  said  the  father  to  the  eldest  son,  "  take 
away  the  eggs,  and  do  not  let  the  bird  that  is  sitting 
upon  them  and  hatching  them  know  what  you  are 
doing." 

So  the  cunning  thief  climbed  up  the  tree,  and 
brought  away  to  his  father  the.  five  eggs  from  under 
the  bird,  who  never  saw  or  felt  what  he  was  doing, 
but  kept  sitting  on  at  her  ease.  Then  the  father 
took  the  eggs,  and  put  one  on  each  corner  of  the 
table  and  the  fifth  in  the  middle,  and  said  to  the 
huntsman,  "  Cut  each  of  the  eggs  into  two  pieces  at 
one  shot." 

The  huntsman  took  up  his  bow,  and  at  one  shot 
struck  all  the  five  eggs  as  his  father  wished. 

"  Now  comes  your  turn,"  said  he  to  the  young 
tailor ;  "  sew  the  eggs  and  the  young  birds  in  them 
together  again,  so  neatly  that  the  shot  shall  have 
done  them  no  harm." 

Then  the  tailor  took  his  needle  and  sewed  the 


48  BOOK    FIVE 

eggs  as  he  was  told ;  and  when  he  had  done,  the 
thief  was  sent  to  take  them  back  to  the  nest,  and 
put  them  under  the  bird,  without  her  knowing  it. 
Then  she  went  on  sitting,  and  hatched  them ;  and 
in  a  few  days  the  young  birds  crawled  out,  and  had 
only  a  little  red  streak  across  their  necks  where  the 
tailor  had  sewed  them  together. 

"  Well  done,  sons ! "  said  the  old  man,  "  you  have 
made  good  use  of  your  time,  and  learnt  something 
worth  the  knowing;  but  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know 
which  ought  to  have  the  prize.  Oh !  that  the  time 
might  soon  come  for  you  to  turn  your  skill  to  some 
account ! " 

Not  long  after  this  there  was  a  great  bustle  in  the 
country;  for  the  king's  daughter  had  been  carried 
off  by  a  mighty  dragon,  and  the  king  mourned  over 
his  loss  day  and  night,  and  made  it  known  that 
whoever  brought  her  back  to  him  should  have  her 
for  his  wife.  Then  the  four  brothers  said  to  each 
other,  "  Here  is  a  chance  for  us ;  let  us  try  what  we 
can  do."  And  they  agreed  to  see  if  they  could  not 
set  the  princess  free. 

"  I  will  find  out  where  she  is,  however,"  said 
the  star-gazer  as  he  looked  through  his  glass.  Soon 
he  cried  out,  "  I  see  her  afar  off,  sitting  upon  a 
rock  in  the  sea,  and  I  can  spy  the  dragon  close  by, 
guarding  her." 


THE    FOUR   CLEVER   BROTHERS  49 

Then  he  went  to  the  king,  and  asked  for  a  ship 
for  himself  and  his  brothers,  and  went  with  them 
upon  the  sea  till  they  came  to  the  right  place. 
There  they  found  the  princess  sitting,  as  the  star- 
gazer  had  said,  on  the  rock,  and  the  dragon  was 
lying  asleep  with  his  head  upon  her  lap. 

"  I  dare  not  shoot  at  him,"  said  the  huntsman, 
"  for  I  should  kill  the  beautiful  young  lady  also." 

"  Then  I  will  try  my  skill,"  said  the  thief;  and  he 
went  and  stole  her  away  from  under  the  dragon  so 
quickly  and  gently  that  the  beast  did  not  know  it, 
but  went  on  snoring. 

Then  away  they  hastened  with  her  full  of  joy  in 
their  boat  toward  the  ship;  but  soon  the  dragon 
came  roaring  through  the  air  behind  them,  for  he 
awoke  and  missed  the  princess.  When  he  got 
above  the  boat,  and  wanted  to  pounce  upon  them 
and  carry  off  the  princess,  the  huntsman  took  up 
his  bow,  and  shot  him  straight  in  the  heart,  so  that 
he  fell  down  dead. 

They  were  still  not  safe ;  for  he  was  such  a  great 
beast,  that  in  his  fall  he  overset  the  boat,  and  they 
had  to  swim  in  the  open  sea  upon  a  few  planks. 
Then  the  tailor  took  his  needle,  and  with  a  few  large 
stitches  put  some  of  the  planks  together.  Sitting 
down  upon  them,  he  sailed  about  and  gathered  up 
all  the  pieces  of  the  boat,  and  tacked  them  together 


50  BOOK   FIVE 

so  quickly  that  the  boat  was  soon  ready.  So  they 
reached  the  ship  and  got  home  safe. 

When  they  had  brought  home  the  princess  to  her 
father,  there  was  great  rejoicing ;  and  he  said  to  the 
four  brothers,  "  One  of  you  shall  marry  her,  but  you 
must  settle  among  yourselves  which  it  is  to  be." 

Then  there  arose  a  quarrel  among  them ;  and 
the  star-gazer  said,  "  If  I  had  not  found  the  princess 
out,  all  your  skill  would  have  been  of  no  use ;  there- 
fore, she  ought  to  be  mine." 

"  Your  seeing  her  would  have  been  of  no  use," 
said  the  thief,  "  if  I  had  not  taken  her  away  from 
the  dragon ;  therefore,  she  ought  to  be  mine." 

"  No,  she  is  mine,"  said  the  huntsman ;  "  for  if  I 
had  not  killed  the  dragon,  he  would  after  all  have 
torn  you  and  the  princess  into  pieces." 

"And  if  I  had  not  sewed  the  boat  together 
again,"  said  the  tailor,  "  you  would  all  have  been 
drowned ;  therefore,  she  is  mine." 

Then  the  king  put  in  a  word,  and  said,  *  Each  of 
you  is  right;  and  as  all  cannot  have  the  princess, 
the  best  way  is  for  none  of  you  to  have  her ;  and  to 
make  up  for  the  loss,  I  will  give  each,  as  a  reward 
for  his  skill,  half  a  kingdom." 

So  the  brothers  agreed  that  this  would  be  much 
better  than  quarrelling;  and  the  king  then  gave 
each  half  a  kingdom,  as  he  had  promised.     They 


SONG 


5i 


lived  very  happily  the  rest  of  their  days,  and  took 
good  care  of  their  father. 


cun'ning  est,  most  skilful. 

call'ing,  trade. 

clev'er,  skilful. 

star'-gaz  er,    one    who    studies    the 

stars. 
goose,  a  tailor's  smoothing-iron. 


chaffinch,  a    sweet-singing  bird   of 

Europe, 
drag'on,  a  fabled  animal,  like  a  huge 

serpent  with  wings. 
pounce,  to  fall  upon  suddenly  and 


Jacob  Ludwig  Karl  Grimm  ^1785-1863)  and  Wilhelm  Karl 
Grimm  (1 786-1859)  were  famous  German  scholars.  Besides 
writing  many  learned  books,  these  two  brothers  worked  sixteen 
years  collecting  the  stories  that  the  German  peasants  liked  to  tell 
to  their  children.  In  English  this  collection  of  folklore  is  com- 
monly known  as  Grimm's  "  Tales."  They  have  been  translated 
into  nearly  all  the  modern  languages,  and  have  given  delight  to 
old  and  young. 


SONG. 


ROBERT   BROWNING. 

The  year's  at  the  spring 
And  day's  at  the  morn ; 
Morning's  at  seven ; 
The  hill-side's  dew-pearled; 
The  lark's  on  the  wing; 
The  snail's  on  the  thorn; 
God's  in  his  heaven  — 
All's  right  with  the  world ! 


52  BOOK   FIVE 


REYNARD   THE   FOX. 
I. 

It  was  Whitsuntide ;  and  the  Lion,  the  King  of 
the  beasts,  summoned  a  great  meeting  of  all  his 
subjects.  The  beasts  and  birds  came  trooping  into 
court  from  every  side :  Bruin  the  bear,  and  Is'egrim 
the  wolf,  and  Hint'ze  the  wild-cat,  and  Lam'pe 
the  hare,  and  Grimbart  the  badger,  and  crowds  of 
others.  But  one  was  absent ;  and  it  was  Reynard 
the  fox. 

King  Lion  sat  in  his  council  to  give  justice,  and 
all  the  birds  and  beasts  that  had  any  complaints  to 
make  were  carefully  listened  to,  and  justice  was 
done  them.  But  this  Whitsuntide  there  were  more 
complaints  than  usual;  and  they  were  all  about 
the  wickedness  of   Reynard  the  fox. 

The  first  that  came  forward  was  Isegrim  the  wolf. 
"  Indeed,  your  Majesty,"  he  began,  "  there  is  no  put- 
ting up  with  Reynard  any  longer.  Only  the  other 
day  he  came  to  my  house  when  I  was  out,  and  was 
very  rude  to  my  wife,  and  flapped  dust  with  his  tail 
into  my  children's  eyes,  and  three  of  them  have 
gone  quite  blind,  poor  little  things." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  panther,  "  and  did  you  hear  how 
he  treated  poor  old  Lampe  the  hare  ?    Reynard  pre- 


REYNARD   THE   FOX 


53 


tended  he  had  turned  good,  and  offered  to  teach 
Lampe  how  to  say  his  prayers.  I  was  just  passing, 
and  there  they  sat  by  the  roadside,  looking  as  pious 
as  anything.      Then  Reynard  jumped  up  all  of   a 


sudden,  and  seized  the  poor  frightened  thing  by  the 
scruff  of  his  neck,  and  worried  him." 

"Yes,"  said  a  dog,  "and  he  stole  the  sausage 
that  I  was  going  to  have  for  dinner.  I  hid  it  away 
behind  a  bush,  and  Reynard  found  it,  and  ate  it." 


54  BOOK    FIVE 

"Oh!  you  needn't  talk,"  said  Hintze  the  cat. 
"  Please  your  Majesty,  it  was  my  sausage,  and  he 
stole  it  from  me  first.  I  went  into  the  miller's 
house  one  night  while  they  were  all  asleep,  and 
saw  the  sausages  doing  nothing  on  a  shelf.  Your 
Majesty,  I  took  only  one,  and  it  was  such  a  little 
one." 

"  That's  all  very  fine,"  said  Grimbart  the  badger, 
who  was  Reynard's  nephew,  "you  talk  because 
you  know  Reynard  isn't  here  to  listen.  No  one, 
your  Majesty,  ought  to  be  condemned  unheard.  I 
happen  to  know  something  about  Reynard,  and 
how  mean  Isegrim  the  wolf  has  been  toward  him. 
Now,  would  you  believe  it,  Reynard  and  Isegrim 
once  went  into  partnership,  and  Isegrim  was  mean 
and  selfish  enough  to  let  Reynard  do  all  the  work 
and  face  all  the  danger,  while  he  got  all  the  profit." 

"  I  suppose  it's  six  of  one  and  half-a-dozen  of  the 
other,"  said  the  King.  "  What  have  you  to  say  in 
Reynard's  favor  ? " 

"  Well,  your  Majesty,  one  day  Isegrim  and  Rey- 
nard went  out  together,  and  they  got  very  hungry. 
Presently  a  man  came  along  with  a  cart  full  of  fish. 
Isegrim  wanted  the  fish  very  much,  but  he  hadn't 
the  pluck  to  go  and  take  it.  So  Reynard  went  on  a 
little  way  when  the  man  wasn't  looking,  lay  down  in 
a  deep  rut,  and  shut  his  eyes  and  held  his  breath, 


REYNARD   THE   FOX  55 

and  made  himself  very  stiff.  When  the  man  and 
the  cart  came  up,  the  man  said,  *  Hello!  here's  a 
dead  fox ! '  and  he  picked  him  up,  and  threw  him 
into  the  cart  on  the  top  of  the  fish,  because  he 
thought  he  would  sell  Reynard's  skin  when  he  got 
to  the  town. 

"  But  Isegrim  ran  behind,  and  every  now  and 
then  Reynard  kicked  some  fishes  into  the  road. 
After  a  while,  he  thought  he  had  kicked  off  enough, 
and,  when  the  man  wasn't  looking,  Reynard  jumped 
down  and  ran  back  to  Isegrim.  He  thought  Isegrim 
looked  very  fat,  and  that  made  him  hungrier  than 
ever.  *  Where's  my  share  ? '  said  Reynard.  '  Here,' 
said  Isegrim,  and  he  pointed  to  a  nice  little  heap  of 
fish-bones.  '  I  hope  you'll  enjoy  them.  They're 
very  nice,'  and  then   Isegrim  ran  away." 

"  H'm !  "  said  the  King.     "  Anything  else  ? " 

II. 

"Yes,"  said  Grimbart;  "another  time  Isegrim 
and  Reynard  went  to  a  peasant's  house,  because 
they  knew  the  man  had  killed  a  fat  pig  that  morn- 
ing. They  thought  they  would  like  that  pig. 
Reynard  got  in  through  the  window,  and  threw 
the  pig,  which  was  hanging  on  a  wooden  peg,  out 
of  the  window  to  Isegrim,  peg  and  all.  Reynard 
got  out  of  another  window,  and  jumped  into  the 


$6  BOOK   FIVE 

yard,  straight  on  the  dog-kennels.  All  the  dogs 
rushed  out,  and  Reynard  had  to  flee  for  his  life. 
When  he  had  left  them  far  behind,  and  the  dogs 
had  gone  home,  Reynard  crept  back.  There  was 
no  pig,  and  Isegrim  looked  ready  to  burst.  ■  Haven't 
you  saved  a  bit  for  me  ? '  he  asked,  very  angrily. 
'  Oh,  yes ! '  said  Isegrim ;  and  he  held  out  the  wooden 

Peg." 

"  What  have  you  to  say?  "  said  the  King,  looking 
at  the  wolf. 

"  But  that  isn't  all,"  broke  in  Grimbart,  before  the 
wolf  could  reply.  "Whatever  sins  Reynard  may 
have  committed  in  the  past,  he  has  repented  now. 
In  fact,  he  has  turned  hermit ;  he  has  left  his  great 
castle,  and  has  built  himself  a  hermit's  cell.  He 
eats  only  once  a  day,  flogs  himself  for  penance, 
wears  a  hair  shirt,  and  has  got  quite  lean  and  pale." 

Just  then  there  was  a  noise  outside  the  court,  and 
the  door  opened,  and  in  walked  Chanticleer  and  all 
his  relations,  in  a  long  procession,  all  weeping.  In 
the  middle  of  the  procession  came  a  stretcher,  and 
on  it  lay  a  young  hen,  very  much  torn,  and  with  no 
head. 

"Alas!  alas!  your  Majesty,"  wept  Chanticleer, 
"just  see  what  Reynard  has  done  to  my  poor 
daughter  Scratchfoot !  My  wife  and  I  brought  up 
a  large  family  this  season,  ten   fine  manly  young 


REYNARD   THE    FOX  57 

cocks  and  fourteen  lovely  little  hens.  We  lived  so 
happily,  in  perfect  safety,  in  a  farm-yard,  with  high 
walls  all  round,  and  six  big  dogs  to  guard  us.  Rey- 
nard tried  many  times  to  get  in,  but  the  dogs 
caught  him  and  crumpled  his  skin  for  him. 

"  Then  one  day  we  heard  that  Reynard  had 
turned  hermit,  and  had  vowed  never  to  eat  meat 
any  more.  The  next  day  he  came  to  the  gate  and 
rang  the  bell,  and  said  he  wished  to  see  me,  as  he 
had  a  letter  to  deliver  from  the  King.  So  he  was 
shown  into  the  room,  and  I  went  to  see  him.  He 
was  dressed  just  like  a  hermit,  in  hair  shirt,  cowl 
and  all,  and  looked  very  proper. 

"  The  letter  was  your  proclamation,  O  King,  say- 
ing that  all  your  subjects  were  to  go  freely  about, 
and  that  any  one  who  molested  them  should  be 
punished.  I  felt  quite  overjoyed,  and  began  to 
show  my  delight  to  Reynard.  But  Reynard  said 
he  could  not  stay,  for  he  had  to  go  home  and  read 
prayers ;  and  he  took  out  his  prayer-book  then  and 
there,  and  began  to  read  it  as  he  walked  out. 

"  So  I  called  my  children  and  told  them  that  Rey- 
nard had  turned  a  holy  hermit,  and  that  we  might 
all  go  where  we  pleased  in  perfect  safety.  So  we 
all  went  out  beyond  the  gates.  But  alas!  alas! 
Reynard  was  lying  hidden  just  round  the  corner, 
and  he  sprang  out  and  killed  fifteen  of  my  children 


58 


BOOK   FIVE 


and  ate  them  up,  feathers  and  all.  And  he  bit  off 
poor  Scratchfoot's  head.  The  dogs  came  only  in 
time  to  rescue  her  body." 

Then  the  King  rose,  very  wrathful,  both  with 
Reynard  and  with  his  nephew  Grimbart.  He 
ordered  a  grand  funeral  for  Scratchfoot,  and  a 
marble  tombstone  to  be  placed  over  her.  Then 
he  sent  orders  to  Reynard  to  appear  in  court  with- 
out delay.  And  for  the  messenger  the  King  chose 
Bruin  the  bear,  because  he  was  big  and  strong,  and 
warned  him  very  seriously  that  Reynard  would  be 
up  to  tricks  if  he  could,  and  that  he  must  not  let 
himself  be  taken  in. 


Whit'sun  tide,  the  week  beginning 
with  Whitsunday,  which  is  the 
seventh  Sunday  after  Easter. 

sum'moned,  called. 

coun'cil,  meeting. 

scruff,  back  of  the  neck. 

con  demned',  judged  to  be  guilty. 

go  into  part'ner  ship,  to  go  into  busi- 
ness together. 

com  mit'ted,  done. 


re  pent',  to  be  sorry  for  doing  wrong, 
pen'ance,  punishment  given  to  one's 

self, 
stretch/er,  a   frame  for  carrying  the 

sick  or  the  dead. 
wail'ing,  weeping  or  crying  loudly, 
cowl,  hood. 

proc  la  ma'tion,  notice;  order, 
mo  lest'ed,  troubled ;  annoyed, 
taken  in,  deceived. 


Reynard  the  Fox  was  the  subject  of  a  number  of  fables  and 
tales  which  were  common  in  Europe  two  hundred  years  before  the 
discovery  of  America.  The  most  popular  form  of  this  amusing 
story  was  printed  in  Dutch  in  1479,  and  translated  into  English 
by  William  Caxton,  «the  first  English  printer,  and  published  in 
1481.  Certain  incidents  in  the  story  are  remotely  similar  to  some 
of  the  "Uncle  Remus"  stories.  Only  a  short  extract  is  given 
here. 


THE   SINGING   LESSON  59 

THE  SINGING  LESSON. 

JEAN  INGELOW. 

A  nightingale  made  a  mistake ; 

She  sang  a  few  notes  out  of  tune ; 
Her  heart  was  ready  to  break, 

And  she  hid  away  from  the  moon. 

She  wrung  her  claws,  poor  thing ! 

But  was  far  too  proud  to  weep ; 
She  tucked  her  head  under  her  wing, 

And  pretended  to  be  asleep. 

"  Oh,  Nightingale,"  cooed  a  dove  — 
"  Oh,  Nightingale,  what's  the  use? 

You  bird  of  beauty  and  love, 
Why  behave  like  a  goose  ? 

"  Don't  skulk  away  from  our  sight, 
Like  common,  contemptible  fowl; 

You  bird  of  joy  and  delight, 
Why  behave  like  an  owl  ? 

"Only  think  of  all  you  have  done, 

Only  think  of  all  you  can  do; 
A  false  note  is  really  fun 

From  such  a  bird  as  you. 

"  Lift  up  your  proud  little  crest, 
Open  your  musical  beak ; 


6o 


BOOK    FIVE 


Other  birds  have  to  do  their  best  — 
You  need  only  to  speak." 

The  nightingale  shyly  took 

Her  head  from  under  her  wing, 

And,  giving  the  dove  a  look, 
Straightway  began  to  sing. 

There  was  never  a  bird  could  pass ; 

The  night  was  divinely  calm, 
And  the  people  stood  on  the  grass 

To  hear  that  wonderful  psalm. 

The  nightingale  did  not  care ; 

She  only  sang  to  the  skies ; 
Her  song  ascended  there, 

And  there  she  fixed  her  eyes. 

The  people  that  stood  below 
She  knew  but  little  about ; 

And  this  story's  a  moral,  I  know, 
If  you'll  try  to  find  it  out. 


night'in  gale,  a  small  bird  of  Europe, 
which  sings  sweetly  at  night. 

con  tempt'i  ble,  mean;  to  be  de- 
spised. 


divine'ly,  excellently;  like  a  god  or 

a  goddess, 
psalm,  song  of  praise. 
as  cend'ed,  went  up. 


Jean  Ingelow  (i 830-1897)  was  an  English  writer  of  stories 
and  poems.  All  young  people  should  know  her  "  Stories  told  to 
a  Child,"  and  the  poem  beginning  with  "  Seven  Times  One." 


THE   MAGIC   MILL  61 


THE    MAGIC   MILL.' 

Once  upon  a  time  there  lived  two  brothers,  one 
of  whom  was  rich,  and  the  other  poor.  Christmas 
was  coming,  and  the  poor  man  had  nothing  in  the 
house  for  a  Christmas  dinner.  So  he  went  to  his 
brother  and  asked  him  for  a  trifling  gift. 

The  rich  man  was  ill-natured,  and  when  he  heard 
his  brother's  request  he  looked  very  surly.  But 
Christmas  is  a  time  when  even  the  worst  people 
give  gifts.  He  took  a  fine  ham  down  from  the 
chimney,  where  it  was  hanging  to  smoke,  threw  it 
at  his  brother,  and  bade  him  begone,  and  never  let 
him  see  his  face  again. 

The  poor  man  thanked  his  brother  for  the  ham, 
put  it  under  his  arm,  and  went  his  way.  He  had  to 
pass  through  a  great  forest  on  his  way  home.  When 
he  had  reached  the  thickest  part  of  it,  he  saw  an 
old  man,  with  a  long,  white  beard,  hewing  timber. 
"  Good  evening,"  said  he  to  the  old  man. 

"  Good  evening,"  returned  the  old  man,  raising 
himself  from  his  work.  "  That  is  a  fine  ham  you 
are  carrying."  Then  the  poor  man  told  him  all 
about  it. 

11  It  is  lucky  for  you,"  said  the  old  man,  "  that  you 
met  me.     If  you  will  take  that  ham  into  the  land 


62  BOOK   FIVE 

of  the  dwarfs,  the  entrance  to  which  lies  just  under 
the  roots  of  this  tree,  you  can  make  a  capital  bar- 
gain with  it.  The  dwarfs  are  very  fond  of  ham,  and 
rarely  get  any.  But  mind  what  I  say;  you  must 
not  sell  it  for  money.  Demand  for  it  the  'old 
hand-mill  which  stands  behind  the  door.'  When 
you  come  back,  I'll  show  you  how  to  use  it." 

The  poor  man  thanked  his  new  friend,  who 
showed  him  the  door  under  a  stone  below  the 
roots  of  the  tree.  By  this  door  he  entered  the  land 
of  the  dwarfs.  No  sooner  had  he  set  his  foot  in  it 
than  the  dwarfs  swarmed  about  him,  attracted  by 
the  smell  of  the  ham.  They  offered  him  old-fash- 
ioned money  and  gold  and  silver  ore  for  it.  But 
he  refused  all  their  offers,  and  said  that  he  would 
sell  it  only  for  the  old  hand-mill  behind  the  door. 
At  this,  the  dwarfs  looked  quite  perplexed. 

"  We  cannot  make  a  bargain,  it  seems,"  said  the 
poor  man,  "  so  I'll  bid  you  all  a  good  day." 

The  smell  of  the  ham  had  by  this  time  reached 
the  remote  parts  of  fairy-land.  The  dwarfs  came 
flocking  around  in  troops,  leaving  their  work  .of 
digging  out  precious  ores,  eager  for  the  ham. 

"  Let  him  have  the  old  mill,"  said  some  of  the 
newcomers.  "  It  is  quite  out  of  order,  and  he 
doesn't  know  how  to  use  it.  Let  him  have  it,  and 
we  will  have  the  ham." 


THE    MAGIC    MILL  63 

So  the  bargain  was  made.  The  poor  man  took 
the  old  hand-mill,  which  was  a  little  thing  not  half 
so  large  as  the  ham,  and  went  back  to  the  woods. 
Here  the  old  man  showed  him  how  to  use  it.  All 
this  had  taken  up  a  great  deal  of  time,  and  it  was 
midnight  before  he  reached  home. 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?  "  said  his  wife.  "  Here 
I  have  been  waiting  and  waiting,  and  we  have  no 
wood  to  make  a  fire,  nor  anything  to  put  into  the 
porridge-pot  for  our  Christmas  supper." 

The  house  was  dark  and  cold,  but  the  poor  man 
bade  his  wife  wait  and  see  what  would  happen.  He 
placed  the  little  hand-mill  on  the  table,  and  began 
to  turn  the  crank.  First,  there  came  out  some  grand, 
lighted  wax-candles,  and  a  fire  on  the  hearth,  and  a 
porridge-pot  boiling  over  it,  because  in  his  mind  he 
said  they  should  come  first.  Then  he  ground  out 
a  table-cloth  and  dishes,  and  spoons,  and  knives  and 
forks. 

He  was  astonished  at  his  good  luck,  as  you  may 
believe ;  and  his  wife  was  almost  beside  herself  with 
joy.  They  had  a  capital  supper ;  and  after  it  was 
eaten  they  ground  out  of  the  mill  everything  to 
make  their  house  and  themselves  warm  and  com- 
fortable.    So  they  had  a  merry  Christmas! 

When  the  people  went  by  the  house  to  church 
the  next  day,  they  could  hardly  believe  their  eyes. 


64  BOOK   FIVE 

There  was  glass  in  the  windows  instead  of  wooden 
shutters,  and  the  poor  man  and  his  wife,  dressed  in 
nice  new  clothes,  were  seen  devoutly  kneeling  in 
the  church. 

"  There  is  something  very  strange  in  all  this," 
said  every  one. 

"Something  very  strange  indeed,"  said  the  rich 
man,  when  three  days  afterward  he  received  from 
his  once  poor  brother  an  invitation  to  a  grand  feast. 

What  a  feast  it  was !  The  table  was  covered 
with  a  cloth  as  white  as  snow,  and  the  dishes  were 
all  of  silver  or  gold.  The  rich  man  could  not,  in 
his  great  house  and  with  all  his  wealth,  set  out  such 
a  table. 

"  Where  did  you  get  all  these  things  ?  "  exclaimed 
he. 

His  brother  told  him  all  about  the  bargain  he  had 
made  with  the  dwarfs,  and  putting  the  mill  on  the 
table,  ground  out  boots  and  shoes,  coats  and  cloaks, 
stockings,  gowns,  and  blankets,  and  bade  his  wife 
give  them  to  the  poor  people,  who  had  gathered 
about  the  house  to  get  a  sight  of  the  grand  feast 
that  the  poor  brother  had  made  for  the  rich  one. 

The  rich  man  was  very  envious  of  his  brother's 
good  fortune,  and  wanted  to  borrow  the  mill,  intend- 
ing, for  he  was  not  an  honest  man,  never  to  return  it 
again.     His  brother  would  not  lend  it,  for  the  old 


THE   MAGIC   MILL  65 

man  with  the  white  beard  had  told  him  never  to  sell 
or  lend  it  to  any  one. 

Some  years  went  on,  and  at  last  the  possessor  of 
the  mill  built  himself  a  grand  castle  on  a  rock 
by  the  sea,  facing  the  west.  Its  windows,  reflecting 
the  golden  sunset,  could  be  seen  far  out  from  the 
shore.  It  became  a  noted  landmark  for  sailors. 
Strangers  often  came  to  see  this  castle  and  the 
wonderful  mill,  of  which  the  strangest  tales  were 
told. 

At  length,  a  great  foreign  merchant  came,  and 
when  he  had  seen  the  mill,  inquired  whether  it 
would  grind  salt.  Being  told  that  it  would,  he 
wanted  to  buy  it ;  for  he  traded  in  salt,  and  thought 
that,  if  he  owned  the  mill,  he  could  supply  all  his 
customers  without  taking  long  and  dangerous 
voyages. 

The  man  would  not  sell  it,  of  course.  He  was 
so  rich  now  that  he  did  not  want  to  use  it  for  him- 
self ;  but  every  Christmas  he  ground  out  food  and 
clothes,  and  coal  for  the  poor,  and  nice  presents  for 
the  little  children.  So  he  rejected  all  the  offers  of 
the  rich  merchant. 

The  merchant,  however,  made  up  his  mind  to 
have  the  mill.  He  bribed  one  of  the  man's  servants 
to  let  him  go  into  the  castle  at  night,  and  he  stole 
the  mill  and  sailed  away  with  it  in  triumph.     He 


66 


BOOK   FIVE 


had  scarcely  got  out  to  sea,  before  he  determined  to 
set  the  mill  to  work. 

"  Now,  mill,  grind  salt,"  said  he ;  "  grind  salt  with 
all  your  might !  —  Salt,  salt,  nothing  but  salt !  " 

The  mill  began  to  grind  and  the  sailors  to  fill  the 
sacks;  but  these  were  soon  full,  and  in  spite  of  all 
that  could  be  done,  the  salt  began  to  fill  the  ship. 
The  dishonest  merchant  was  now  very  much  fright- 
ened. What  was  to  be  done  ?  The  mill  would  not 
stop  grinding.  At  last  the  ship  was  overloaded, 
and  down  it  went,  making  a  great  whirlpool  where 
it  sank. 

The  ship  soon  went  to  pieces;  but  the  mill  stands 
on  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  and  keeps  grinding  out 
"  salt,  salt,  nothing  but  salt !  "  That  is  the  reason, 
say  the  peasants  of  Denmark  and  Norway,  why  the 
sea  is  salt.  — From  the  Norwegian. 


cap'i  tal,  excellent. 

ore,  metal  in  the  form  in  which  it  comes 

from  the  ground, 
per  plexed',  puzzled. 
re  mote',  far  away. 


de  vout'ly,  in  a  reverent  manner. 

en'vi  ous,  jealous. 

pos  sess'or,  owner. 

re  flect'ing,  throwing  back  (light). 

bribed,  persuaded  by  means  of  a  gift. 


The  better  part  of  valor  is  discretion. 
They  that  touch  pitch  will  be  defiled. 
Ill  blows  the  wind  that  profits  nobody. 
To  thine  own  self  be  true.  —  Shakespeare. 


THE   BLIND   MEN   AND   THE   ELEPHANT         67 

THE  BLIND  MEN  AND  THE 
ELEPHANT. 

JOHN  G.  SAXE. 

It  was  six  men  of  Indostan, 

To  learning  much  inclined, 
Who  went  to  see  the  elephant 

(Though  all  of  them  were  blind), 
That  each  by  observation 

Might  satisfy  his  mind. 

The  first  approached  the  elephant, 

And,  happening  to  fall 
Against  his  broad  and  sturdy  side, 

At  once  began  to  bawl : 
"  Why,  bless  me !  but  the  elephant 

Is  very  like  a  wall !  " 

The  second,  feeling  of  the  tusk, 
Cried :  "  Ho !  what  have  we  here, 

So  very  round,  and  smooth,  and  sharp  ? 
To  me  'tis  very  clear, 

This  wonder  of  an  elephant 
Is  very  like  a  spear !  " 

The  third  approached  the  animal, 

And,  happening  to  take 
The  squirming  trunk  within  his  hands, 


68  BOOK    FIVE 

Thus  boldly  up  he  spake : 
"  I  see,"  quoth  he,  "  the  elephant 
Is  very  like  a  snake !  " 

The  fourth  reached  out  his  eager  hand, 

And  felt  about  the  knee : 
"  What  most  this  wondrous  beast  is  like, 

Is  very  plain,"  quoth  he : 
"  'Tis  clear  enough  the  elephant 

Is  very  like  a  tree !  " 

The  fifth,  who  chanced  to  touch  the  ear, 
Said :  "  E'en  the  blindest  man 

Can  tell  what  this  resembles  most; 
Deny  the  fact  who  can, 

This  marvel  of  an  elephant 
Is  very  like  a  fan !  " 

The  sixth  no  sooner  had  begun 

About  the  beast  to  grope, 
Than,  seizing  on  the  swinging  tail 

That  fell  within  his  scope, 
"  I  see,"  quoth  he,  "  the  elephant 

Is  very  like  -a  rope !  " 

And  so  these  men  of  Indostan 

Disputed  loud  and  long, 
Each  in  his  own  opinion 

Exceeding  stiff  and  strong; 


THE   BLIND   MEN   AND  THE   ELEPHANT 


7o  BOOK   FIVE 

Though  each  was  partly  in  the  right, 
And  all  were  in  the  wrong. 


In  do  stan',  Hindostan,  India. 

ob  ser  va'tion,     use     of    eyes,    ears, 

fingers,  etc. 
squirm'ing,  wriggling. 


de  ny',  declare  not  to  be  true, 
quoth,  said, 
won'drous,  wonderful. 
scope, reach. 


John  Godfrey  Saxe  (i 816-1887)  a  distinguished  American 
humorous  poet,  taught  many  a  good  lesson  in  verse. 


TIMOTHY'S   SHOES. 

JULIANA  HORATIA  EWING. 
I. 

Her  fairy  godmother  presented  Timothy's  mother 
with  a  small  pair  of  strong  leather  shoes,  copper- 
tipped  and  heeled.  "  They  will  never  wear  out,  my 
dear,"  she  said.  "  Rely  upon  it,  you  will  find  them 
*a  mother's  blessing.'  However  large  a  family  you 
may  have,  your  children  will  step  into  one  another's 
shoes  just  at  the  age  when  little  feet  are  most 
destructive." 

I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  the  buzz  in  which 
the  visitors  expressed  their  astonishment  at  the 
meanness  of  the  fairy's  gift.  The  young  mother 
was  a  sensible,  sweet-tempered  woman,  and  very 
fond  of  her  old  godmother,  so  she  took  the  shoes 
and  thanked  the  old  lady. 


TIMOTHY'S   SHOES  71 

When  the  company  had  departed,  the  godmother 
still  lingered,  and  kissed  her  goddaughter  affection- 
ately. "  If  your  children  inherit  your  good  sense 
and  good  temper,  my  love,  they  will  need  nothing 
an  old  woman  like  me  can  give  them,"  said  she. 
"  But  my  little  gift  is  not  quite  so  shabby  as  it  looks. 
These  shoes  have  another  quality  besides  that  of 
not  wearing  out. 

"The  little  feet  that  are  in  them  cannot  very 
easily  go  wrong.  When  your  boy  is  old  enough, 
send  him  to  school  in  these  shoes.  Should  he  be 
disposed  to  play  truant,  they  will  pinch  and  annoy 
him  so  that  it  is  likely  he  will  let  his  shoes  take 
him  the  right  way.  They  will  in  like  manner  bring 
him  home  at  the  proper  time." 

"Mrs.  Godmother's  broomstick  at  the  door!" 
shouted  the  farming  man  who  was  acting  as  foot- 
man on  this  occasion. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  said  the  old  lady,  "you  will  find 
out  their  virtues  all  in  good  time,  and  they  will  do 
for  the  whole  family  in  turn ;  for  I  really  can  come 
to  no  more  christenings.  I  am  getting  old  —  be- 
sides, our  day  is  over.  Farewell,  my  love."  And, 
mounting  her  broomstick,  the  fairy  finally  departed. 

As  years  went  by  the  mother  learned  the  full 
value  of  the  little  shoes.  Her  nine  boys  wore  them 
in  turn,  but  they  never  wore  them  out.     So  long  as 


72  BOOK   FIVE 

the  fairy  shoes  were  on  their  feet,  they  were  pretty 
sure  to  go  where  they  were  sent,  and  to  come  back 
when  they  were  wanted. 

During  the  time  that  each  boy  wore  them,  he  got 
into  such  good  habits  that  he  was  ever  after  easily 
managed.  At  last*  they  came  to  the  ninth  and 
youngest  boy,  and  became  Timothys  shoes. 

Now  the  eighth  boy  had  very  small  feet,  so  that 
he  had  worn  the  shoes  rather  longer  than  the 
others,  and  Timothy  got  them  somewhat  later  than 
usual.  Then,  Timothy's  mother  was  not  above  the 
weakness  of  spoiling  the  youngest  of  the  family. 
So,  for  one  reason  or  another,  Master  Timothy  was 
wilful,  and  his  feet  were  pretty  well  used  to  taking 
their  own  way,  before  he  stepped  into  the  fairy  shoes. 

He  played  truant  from  school  and  was  late  for 
dinner  so  often,  that  at  length  his  mother  resolved 
to  bear  it  no  longer.  One  morning  the  leather  shoes 
were  brightly  blacked  and  the  copper  tips  polished. 
Master  Tim  was  duly  shod,  and  sent  to  school  with 
many  a  wise  warning  from  his  fond  parent. 

"  Now,  Tim,  dear,  I  know  you  will  be  a  good  boy," 
said  his  mother,  a  strong  feeling  that  he  would  be 
no  such  thing  pricking  her  conscience.  "  And  mind 
you  don't  loiter  or  play  truant.  For  if  you  do,  these 
shoes  will  pinch  you  horribly,  and  you  will  be  sure 
to  be  found  out." 


TIMOTHY'S   SHOES  73 

Tim's  mother  held  him  by  his  right  arm,  and 
Tim's  left  arm  and  both  his  legs  were  already  as  far 
away  as  he  could  stretch  them.  At  last  the  good 
woman  let  go  her  hold,  and  Tim  went  off  like  an 
arrow  from  a  bow,  and  he  gave  not  one  more  thought 
to  what  his  mother  had  said. 

The  past  winter  had  been  very  cold,  and  the  spring 
had  been  fitful  and  stormy.  May  had  suddenly 
burst  upon  the  country  with  one  broad  bright  smile 
of  sunshine  and  flowers. 

If  Tim  had  loitered  when  the  frost  nipped  his 
nose  and  numbed  his  toes,  or  when  the  trees  were 
bare  and  the  ground  muddy,  and  the  March  winds 
crept  up  his  jacket  sleeves,  one  can  imagine  the 
temptations  to  delay  when  every  nook  had  a  flower 
and  every  bush  a  bird. 

II. 

Going  to  school,  Tim  loitered  once  or  twice  to 
pick  a  flower;  then  the  shoes  pinched  him,  and  he 
ran  on,  all  the  more  willingly  because  a  butterfly  went 
before  him.  But  when  the  path  ran  on  above  the 
marsh,  and  he  looked  down  and  saw  the  buttercups, 
he  dismissed  all  thoughts  of  school.  Buttercups 
he  must  have.  He  flung  his  satchel  on  the  grass, 
and  began  to  scramble  down  the  bank.  But  though 
he  turned  his  feet  toward  the  buttercups,  the  shoes 


74  BOOK   FIVE 

seemed  resolved  to  go  to  school.  As  he  persisted 
in  going  toward  the  marsh,  he  suffered  such 
twitches  and  twinges  that  he  thought  his  feet  would 
certainly  be  wrenched  off. 

But  Tim  was  a  very  resolute  little  fellow,  and  he 
dragged  himself,  shoes  and  all,  down  to  the  marsh. 
And  now  he  could  not  find  a  buttercup  within 
reach;  not  one  would  grow  on  the  safe  edge,  but 
they  shone  out  of  the  depths  of  the  bog. 

At  last,  he  fairly  jumped  into  a  clump  that  seemed 
pretty  near,  and  was  at  once  ankle-deep  in  water. 
Then,  to  his  delight,  the  wet  mud  sucked  the  shoes 
off  his  feet,  and  he  waded  about  among  the  reeds 
and  buttercups,  as  happy  as  could  be.  And  he  was 
none  the  worse,  though  he  ought  to  have  been. 

He  moved  about  very  carefully,  feeling  his  way 
with  a  stick,  and  wondering  how  his  eight  brothers 
had  been  so  feeble-minded  as  never  to  think  of 
throwing  the  shoes  into  a  bog,  and  so  getting  rid  of 
them  once  for  all. 

At  last  Tim  began  to  feel  tired ;  he  hurt  his  foot 
with  a  sharp  stump.  A  fat  yellow  frog  jumped  up 
in  his  face  and  so  startled  him  that  he  nearly  fell 
backward  into  the  water.  So  he  scrambled  out,  and 
climbed  the  bank,  and  cleaned  himself  as  well  as  he 
could  with  a  small  cotton  pocket-handkerchief,  and 
thought  he  would  go  on  to  school. 


TIMOTHY'S   SHOES  75 

With  all  his  faults,  Tim  was  no  coward.  With  a 
quaking  heart  and  a  stubborn  face,  he  made  up  his 
mind  to  tell  the  teacher  that  he  had  played  truant. 
But  even  when  one  has  resolved  to  confess,  the  words 
lag  behind,  and  Tim  was  still  composing  a  speech  in 
his  mind,  and  had  got  no  farther  than  "  Please, 
ma'am,"  when  he  found  himself  in  the  school  and 
under  the  teacher's  very  eye. 

But  Tim  heeded  not  her  frown,  nor  the  titters  of 
the  children.  His  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  school- 
room floor,  where,  in  Tim's  proper  place  in  the  class, 
stood  the  little  leather  shoes,  very  muddy,  and  with 
a  buttercup  in  each. 

"  You  have  been  in  the  marsh,  Timothy,"  said  the 
teacher.     "  Put  on  your  shoes? 

It  will  be  believed  that  when  his  punishment  and 
his  lessons  were  over,  Tim  allowed  his  shoes  to  take 
him  quietly  home. 

How  often  it  happens  that  we  do  not  fully  value 
our  best  friends  till  they  are  about  to  be  taken  from 
us!  It  was  a  painful  fact,  but  Timothy  was  out- 
growing his  shoes. 

He  was  at  home  when  the  day  came  when  the 
old  leather  shoes,  into  which  he  could  no  longer 
squeeze  his  feet,  were  polished  for  the  last  time, 
and  put  away  in  a  cupboard  in  his  mother's  room. 


76  BOOK   FIVE 

Timothy  blacked  them  with  his  own  hands,  and  the 
tears  were  in  his  eyes  as  he  put  them  on  the  shelf. 

"  Good-by,  good  little  friends,"  said  he.  "  I  will 
try  to  walk  as  you  have  taught  me." 

Timothy's  mother  was  much  affected  by  this 
event.  She  could  not  sleep  that  night  for  thinking 
of  the  shoes  in  the  cupboard.  She  seemed  to  live 
over  again  all  the  years  of  her  married  life. 

Her  first  cares,  the  good  conduct  of  all  her  boys, 
the  faithful  help  of  those  good  friends  to  her  nine 
sons  in  turn  —  all  passed  through  her  mind  as  she 
gazed  at  the  cupboard  door  with  sleepless  eyes. 
She  thought,  "  How  wise  the  good  godmother 
was!  No  money  would  have  done  for  my  boys 
what  the  early  training  of  these  shoes  has  done." 

The  sun  was  just  rising,  and  the  good  woman 
was  just  beginning  to  feel  sleepy,  when  she  was 
startled  by  the  familiar  sound  as  of  a  child  jumping 
down  from  some  height  to  the  floor.  The  habit  of 
years  was  strong  upon  her,  and  she  cried,  "  Bless 
the  boy  !  He  will  break  his  neck !  "  as  she  had 
reason  to  exclaim  about  one  or  another  of  her 
nine  sons  any  day  for  the  last  twenty  years. 

But  as  she  spoke,  the  cupboard  door  swung 
slowly  open,  and  Timothy's  shoes  came  out  and 
ran  across  the  floor.  They  paused  for  an  instant 
by  his  mother's  bed,  as  if  to  say  farewell,  and  then 


TIMOTHY'S   SHOES 


77 


the  bedroom  door  opened  also,  and  let  them  pass. 
Down  the  stairs  they  went.  They  ran  with  that 
music  of  a  childish  patter  that  no  foot  in  the  house 
could  make  now.  The  mother  sobbed  to  hear  it 
for  the  last  time.  Then  she  thought,  "  The  house 
door  is  locked ;  they  can't  go  away  yet." 

But  at  that  moment  she  heard  the  house  door 
turn  slowly  on  its  hinges.  Then  she  jumped  out 
of  bed  and  ran  to  the  window,  pushed  it  open,  and 
leaned  out.  In  front  of  the  house  was  a  little  garden 
with  a  gate,  and  beyond  the  gate  was  a  road,  and 
beyond  the  road  was  a  hill.  On  the  grass  of  the 
hill  the  dew  lay  thick  and  white,  and  morning  mists 
rested  on  the  top. 

The  little  shoes  pattered  through  the  garden,  and 
the  gate  opened  for  them.  They  crossed  the  road 
and  went  over  the  hill,  leaving  little  footprints  in 
the  dew.  They  passed  into  the  morning  mists,  and 
were  lost  to  sight.  When  the  sun  looked  over  the 
hill  and  dried  the  dew,  and  sent  away  the  mists, 
Timothy's  shoes  were  gone. 


as  ton'ish  ment,  great  surprise. 

af  fec'tion  ate  ly,  with  love. 

in  her'it,  to   receive   by  nature  from 

one's  parents  or  other   relatives, 
vir'tues,  good  qualities, 
chris'ten  ing,  the  naming  of  a  child 

by  a  priest  or  minister, 
con/science,  the  knowledge  of  right 

and  wrong. 


re  solved',  decided. 

loi'ter,  to  move  slowly;  to  waste  time. 

fit'ful,  changing. 

temp  ta'tion,  a  leading  into  wrong. 

twitch'es,  quick  jerks. 

twing'es,  sudden  pains. 

wrenched,  pulled  roughly. 

res'o  lute,  firm;  determined. 

com  pos'ing,  making  up. 


78  BOOK   FIVE 

THE  LITTLE  MATCH-GIRL. 

HANS  CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN. 

It  was  bitterly  cold ;  it  was  snowing,  and  a  dark 
evening  was  coming  on.  It  was  also  the  last  even- 
ing of  the  year,  New  Year's  Eve.  In  this  cold  and 
in  this  darkness  there  went  through  the  streets 
a  poor  little  girl  with  bare  head  and  naked  feet. 
She  had  slippers  on  when  she  left  home,  but  of 
what  use  was  that? 

They  were  very  large  slippers;  her  mother  had 
worn  them  last,  and  so  large  were  they  that  the  little 
girl  had  lost  them  when  she  was  hurrying  across  the 
street  out  of  the  way  of  two  carriages  that  were 
rushing .  by  hastily.  One  of  the  shoes  could  not  be 
found,  and  a  boy  ran  off  with  the  other;  he  said  he 
could  use  it  for  a  cradle  when  he  had  children  of 
his  own. 

So  the  little  girl  walked  along  now  with  bare 
feet,  all  red  and  blue  with  cold.  In  an  old  apron 
she  carried  a  quantity  of  matches,  and  she  held 
one  packet  in  her  hand.  Nobody  had  bought  any 
from  her  the  whole  day;  nobody  had  even  given 
her  a  copper.  Hungry  and  frozen  she  walked 
along,  and  looked  as  if  she  were  cast  down  by  fear. 

The  snowflakes  fell  upon  her  long  golden  hair, 


THE   LITTLE   MATCH-GIRL  79 

which  curled  so  prettily  over  her  neck,  but  she 
thought  nothing  of  that  now.  Lights  shone  from 
all  the  windows,  and  there  was  a  delicious  odor 
of  roast  goose  in  the  street ;  it  was  New  Year's 
Eve  —  yes,  she  thought  about  that. 

Down  in  a  corner  between  two  houses,  where 
one  stood  out  into  the  street  a  little  farther  than 
the  next  one,  she  sat  down  and  curled  herself  up. 
She  had  drawn  up  her  little  legs  under  her,  but 
she  was  colder  than  ever.  She  dared  not  go  home, 
for  she  had  not  sold  any  matches,  and  had  not  a 
single  copper.  Her  father  wrould  beat  her,  and  it 
was  cold  too  at  home.  They  had  only  the  roof  over 
them,  and  the  wind  whistled  through  it,  although 
straw  and  rags  were  stuffed  into  the  largest  chinks. 

Her  little  hands  were  stiff  with  cold.  Ah,  one 
little  match  would  do  some  good !  If  she  only 
dared  pull  one  out  of  the  bundle,  strike  it  on  the 
wall,  and  warm  her  fingers !  She  pulled  one  out : 
ritch,  how  it  spluttered,  how  it  burnt!  It  was  a 
warm,  clear  flame,  just  like  a  little  candle  when  she 
held  her  hand  round  it.  It  was  a  wonderful  candle. 
The  little  girl  fancied  that  she  was  sitting  in  front 
of  a  big  stove  with  shining  brass  globes  and  doors. 
The  fire  was  burning  so  beautifully  and  warmed 
her  so  well,  but  —  what  was  that  ?  The  little  girl 
was  just  stretching  out  her  feet  to  warm  them  too 


So  BOOK   FIVE 

—  when  the  blaze  went  out.  The  stove  vanished, 
and  she  was  sitting  with  the  end  of  the  burnt-out 
match  in  her  hand. 

A  new  one  was  struck.  It  burned,  it  blazed,  and 
where  the  light  fell  upon  the  wall  it  became  trans- 
parent like  gauze.  She  was  looking  straight 
through  it  into  a  room,  where  the  table  stood 
decked  with  a  shining  white  cloth  and  fine  por- 
celain, and  a  delicious  roast  goose  stuffed  with 
prunes  and  apples  was  steaming  on  it.  And  what 
was  even  grander,  the  goose  sprang  from  the  dish, 
and  waddled  across  the  floor  with  the  carving- 
knife  and  fork  sticking  in  its  back.  Straight  up  to 
the  poor  child  it  came,  and  then  the  match  went 
out,  and  there  was  nothing  but  the  thick,  cold  wall 
to  be  seen. 

She  lit  another.  This  time  she  was  sitting  under 
the  most  lovely  Christmas  tree.  It  was  even  larger 
and  more  decorated  than  the  one  she  had  seen 
through  the  glass  door  at  the  rich  merchant's  this 
time  last  Christmas.  Thousands  of  lights  were  burn- 
ing upon  its  green  branches,  and  colored  pictures 
like  those  which  adorned  the  shop-windows  looked 
down  at  her. 

The  little  one  stretched  out  both  her  hands  into 
the  air  —  then  the  match  went  out.  The  merry 
Christmas  candles  rose  higher  and  higher,  and  she 


THE   LITTLE   MATCH-GIRL  81 

saw  that  they  were  only  the  bright  stars.  One  of 
them  fell  and  made  a  long  streak  of  fire  across  the 
sky.  "  Some  one  is  dying  now,"  said  the  little  girl ; 
for  her  old  grandmother,  who  was  the  only  person 
who  had  been  kind  to  her,  but  who  now  was  dead, 
had  said,  "When  a  star  falls,  a  soul  is  going  up 
to  God." 

She  struck  another  match  against  the  wall;  it 
lighted  all  around  her,  and  in  the  brightness  stood 
her  old  grandmother,  so  clear,  so  bright,  so  gentle 
and  blessed. 

"  Grandmother ! "  cried  the  little  one.  "  Oh,  take 
me  with  you !  I  know  you  will  go  away  when  the 
match  goes  out,  away  like  the  warm  stove,  the  de- 
licious roast  goose,  and  the  beautiful  large  Christ- 
mas tree ! " 

She  hastily  struck  all  the  rest  of  the  matches  that 
were  in  the  bundle,  for  she  wanted  to  stay  by  her 
grandmother.  The  matches  blazed  with  such  a 
glow  that  it  was  brighter  than  daylight.  Grand- 
mother had  never  before  been  so  beautiful,  so  grand. 
She  lifted  the  little  girl  in  her  arms,  and  they  flew 
in  brightness  and  joy,  so  high,  so  high ;  and  there 
was  no  cold,  no  hunger,  no  fear,  for  they  were  with 
God. 

But  in  the  cold  morning-time  the  little  girl  sat 
there,  in  the  corner  by  the  house,  with  rosy  cheeks 


82 


BOOK   FIVE 


and  a  smile  on  her  face  —  dead,  frozen  to  death  on 
the  last  night  of  the  old  year.  New  Year's  morn- 
ing broke  on  the  little  body  still  sitting  with  the 
matches,  of  which  nearly  a  bundle  was  burnt.  "  She 
tried  to  warm  herself,"  they  said.  No  one  knew 
the  beauty  she  had  seen,  nor  in  what  brightness 
she  had  gone  with  her  grandmother  into  the  joy 
of  the  New  Year. 


vanished,  went  out  of  sight  sud- 
denly. 

transparent,  so  thin  or  clear  that 
one  can  see  through. 

gauze,  a  very  thin  cloth. 


por'ce  lain,  chinaware. 

decked,  made  gay  or  pretty. 

de  li'cious,  good  to  taste. 

dec'o  ra  ted,  trimmed  (see  decked). 

a  domed',  made  gay  or  beautiful. 


THE   CORN   SONG. 

JOHN  G.  WHITTIER. 

Heap  high  the  farmer's  wintry  hoard 
Heap  high  the  golden  corn ! 

No  richer  gift  has  Autumn  poured 
From  out  her  lavish  horn ! 


Let  other  lands,  exulting,  glean 
The  apple  from  the  pine, 

The  orange  from  its  glossy  green, 
The  cluster  from  the  vine ; 

We  better  love  the  hardy  gift 
Our  rugged  vales  bestow, 


84  BOOK   FIVE 

To  cheer  us  when  the  storm  shall  drift 
Our  harvest-fields  with  snow. 

Through  vales  of  grass  and  meads  of  flowers, 
Our  ploughs  their  furrows  made, 

While  on  the  hills  the  sun  and  showers 
Of  changeful  April  played. 

We  dropped  the  seed  o'er  hill  and  plain 

Beneath  the  sun  of  May, 
And  frightened  from  our  sprouting  grain 

The  robber  crows  away. 

All  through  the  long,  bright  days  of  June 
Its  leaves  grew  green  and  fair, 

And  waved  in  hot  midsummer's  noon 
Its  soft  and  yellow  hair. 

And  now,  with  autumn's  moonlit  eves, 

Its  harvest-time  has  come, 
We  pluck  away  the  frosted  leaves, 

And  bear  the  treasure  home. 

There,  when  the  snows  about  us  drift, 

And  winter  winds  are  cold, 
Fair  hands  the  broken  grain  shall  sift, 

And  knead  its  meal  of  gold. 

Let  vapid  idlers  loll  in  silk 
Around  their  costly  board; 


THE   CORN   SONG 


85 


Give  us  the  bowl  of  samp  and  milk 
By  homespun  beauty  poured  ! 

Where'er  the  wide  old  kitchen  hearth 

Sends  up  its  smoky  curls, 
Who  will  not  thank  the  kindly  earth, 

And  bless  our  farmer  girls  ? 

Then  shame  on  all  the  proud  and  vain 
Whose  folly  laughs  to  scorn 

The  blessing  of  our  hardy  grain, 
Our  wealth  of  golden  corn ! 

Let  earth  withhold  her  goodly  root, 

Let  mildew  blight  the  rye, 
Give  to  the  worm  the  orchard's  fruit, 

The  wheat-field  to  the  fly 

But  let  the  good  old  crop  adorn 

The  hills  our  fathers  trod ; 
Still  let  us,  for  his  golden  corn, 

Send  up  our  thanks  to  God. 


hoard,  a  hidden  store, 
lav'ish,  giving  very  freely, 
exult'ing,  rejoicing;  being  glad, 
be  stow',  give. 


mead,  meadow. 

knead,  to  press  with  the  hands. 
vap'id,  dull;   flat;   foolish. 
loll,  to  lie  about  in  a  lazy  way. 


John  Greenleaf  Whittier,  one  of  the  greater  American 
poets,  was  born  in  Massachusetts  in  1807,  and  died  in  1892.  His 
first  volume  was  called  "  Legends  of  New  England."  His  best- 
known  known  poem  is  "  Snowbound." 


86  BOOK   FIVE 


ALI,  THE    BOY   CAMEL-DRIVER. 

Hassan  was  a  camel-driver,  and  it  was  his  business 
to  go  backward  and  forward  across  the  desert  to 
Suez,  to  take  care  of  the  camels.  He  had  a  son 
named  AH,  about  twelve  years  of  age. 

One  day,  when  Hassan  had  been  absent  three 
months,  his  wife  received  a  message  from  him,  say- 
ing that  he  wished  her  to  send  Ali  and  the  camel 
with  the  next  caravan  going  to  Suez.  He  would 
stop  there  till  the  boy  arrived. 

Ali  was  delighted  at  the  thought  of  crossing  the 
desert  with  a  caravan  in  charge  of  his  own  camel,  of 
which  he  was  very  fond.  His  mother  was  anxious 
at  the  thought  of  her  son  taking  so  long  a  journey, 
though  she  was  pleased  that  Ali  should  be  able  to 
help  his  father. 

The  camel  was  their  most  valuable  possession,  and 
had  been  bought  after  many  years  of  self-denial 
and  careful  saving.  Though  it  was  so  big  and 
clumsy  in  appearance,  it  was  as  gentle  as  a  child. 
Ali  called  it  Meek-eye.  At  the  sound  of  his  voice, 
the  camel  would  come  when  it  was  called,  and  kneel 
down  while  its  master  mounted  or  the  load  was  put 
on  its  back. 


ALI,   THE  BOY  CAMEL-DRIVER  87 

So  Ali  made  ready  the  trappings  of  the  camel. 
He  saw  that  the  water  bottles  did  not  leak,  for,  as 
they  were  made  of  skin,  they  were  apt  to  crack. 
At  last,  he  joined  a  caravan  that  was  going  to  Suez. 
They  filled  their  water  bottles  at  the  wells  near  the 
gates  of  the  city.  Then  having  bidden  his  mother 
a  fond  farewell,  Ali  started  off  with  a  light  heart. 

The  leading  camels  had  bells  on  their  necks  and 
were  ridden  by  the  guides.  All  the  other  camels 
followed  the  sound  of  the  bells.  So  they  tramped 
steadily  into  the  desert,  the  large  spongy  feet  of 
the  camels  making  a  swishing  sound  as  they  pressed 
into  the  soft  sand,  while  the  drivers  laughed  and 
talked  as  they  rode  along.  No  one  took  notice  of 
Ali,  who  was  the  only  boy  in  the  party,  but  he  was 
able  to  talk  to  Meek-eye,  and  so  kept  up  a  stout 
heart. 

Toward  the  middle  of  the  day  it  became  so  hot 
that  the  sand  seemed  to  be  on  fire.  There  was  no 
breeze  to  cool  and  refresh  them.  Nothing  was  to  be 
seen  but  sand,  rocks,  and  sky.  At  noon  a  halt  was 
called  where  a  small  stream  gushed  out  of  the  rocks. 
At  night  the  party  encamped  for  rest,  the  camels 
lying  down  while  fires  were  lighted  and  food  was 
cooked. 

For  days  they  journeyed  on  without  accident, 
but  on  the  fifth  day,  about  noon,  the  sky  became 


8S  BOOK   FIVE 

overcast.  A  wind  sprang  up,  the  sand  of  the  desert 
began  to  move  about,  and  in  a  few  minutes  one  of 
the  dreaded  sand-storms  was  upon  them.  The 
camels  at  once  lay  down  and  pushed  their  noses  into 
the  sand.  Their  drivers  threw  themselves  flat  upon 
the  earth  in  the  shelter  given  by  the  bodies  of  the 
camels. 

After  the  storm  had  passed  a  cry  of  despair  was 
heard  from  the  drivers.  The  storm  had  covered  the 
track  with  sand,  and  it  was  impossible  to  tell  which 
way  to  go.  So  they  wandered  aimlessly.  Three 
days  passed  thus,  and  then  a  graver  danger  was 
felt.     The  water  bottles  were  dry. 

That  night,  as  Ali  lay  beside  his  camel,  he  heard 
one  of  the  drivers  say  to  a  chief  trader:  "  There 
is  only  one  thing  to  be  done.  We  must  kill  a  camel 
and  get  the  water  in  its  stomach.  We  ought  to 
take  the  boy's  camel.  Neither  he  nor  his  camel 
will  be  missed !  " 

Poor  little  Ali  trembled  with  fear  as  he  heard 
these  words.  What  was  he  to  do,  alone  among 
these  men  fierce  with  thirst?  But  as  he  thought 
of  his  camel  and  the  father  and  mother  he  loved 
so  well,  a  sudden  resolve  sprang  up  within  him. 
He  lay  quite  still  till  all  was  hushed  in  the  camp. 
Then  whispering  a  few  words  in  his  earners  ears, 
he  noiselessly  mounted  and  stole  away. 


ALI,   THE   BOY   CAMEL-DRIVER  89 

On  he  went  through  the  silent  night,  with  his 
faithful  camel  under  him  and  the  silent  stars  above. 
As  he  went  he  prayed  to  the  God  of  his  fathers  to 
bring  him  safely  through  the  desert.  At  last  day 
broke,  and  Ali  saw  all  around  him  nothing  but  the 
vast  expanse  of  sand.  Toward  noon  he  became  so 
faint  with  thirst  that  he  nearly  dropped  off  his 
camel.  He  felt  that  very  soon  there  would  be 
nothing  left  to  do  but  to  lie  down  and  die. 

Just  then  the  camel  plunged  forward  a  little 
faster.  Straining  his  eyes,  Ali  saw  in  the  far  dis- 
tance the  top  of  a  palm  tree.  But  the  camel  had 
seen  it  first,  and  was  now  hastening  on.  In  a  short 
time  both  were  having  a  long  drink  from  a  well, 
which  gave  trees  and  fertility  to  a  small  oasis  in  the 
desert. 

After  a  refreshing  sleep  Ali  awoke,  and  now 
noticed  the  marks  of  recent  steps  upon  the  sand. 
He  knew  that  a  caravan  had  been  there  just  before 
him.  He  pushed  on  as  fast  as  he  could,  and  shortly 
after  dusk  he  saw  the  welcome  blaze  of  camp-fires. 
Soon  he  found  himself  one  of  a  circle  of  camel 
drivers,  who  gave  him  food  and  drink  and  listened 
to  his  tale. 

Happy  were  Ali's  dreams,  now  that  he  felt  his 
troubles  were  nearly  over.  He  was  awakened  by 
the  shouts  of  drivers  and  the  tinkling  of  camel  bells 


9o 


BOOK   FIVE 


from  a  new  party,  which  had  just  reached  the  wells. 
As  he  lay  listening  in  a  sleepy  fashion  to  these  new 
sounds,  he  heard  a  voice  that  made  him  jump  from 
the  ground.  Could  he  be  mistaken?  No,  it  was 
the  sound  of  his  father's  voice,  and  in  an  instant  he 
was  in  his  father's  arms. 

Hassan  had  waited  at  Suez  for  some  time,  but  as 
Ali  did  not  come  he  thought  that  there  had  been 
some  mistake,  and  started  for  home.  What  a  joyful 
meeting  there  was  a  few  days  later,  when  Ali  told 
his  tale  to  his  mother,  who  lifted  up  her  heart  in 
thankfulness  to  the  great  Father,  who  had  brought 
her  son  safely  home  to  her  through  so  many  dangers. 


car/a  van,  a  camel-train  in  the  desert. 
self -de  ni'al,   giving  up   things   that 

one  wants. 
trap' pings,  harnness. 


ex  panse',  wide  extent  of  land  or  water 

or  sky. 
o'a  sis,  a  grassy  spot  in  a  desert. 
f er  til'i  ty,  richness,  fruitfulness. 


THE   EAGLE. 

ALFRED  TENNYSON. 

He  clasps  the  crag  with  hooked  hands; 
Close  to  the  sun  in  lonely  lands, 
Ring'd  with  the  azure  world,  he  stands. 

The  wrinkled  sea  beneath  him  crawls ; 
He  watches  from  his  mountain  walls, 
And  like  a  thunderbolt  he  falls. 


TROY   AND   THE   WOODEN   HORSE  91 


TROY   AND   THE   WOODEN    HORSE. 

Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  famous  city  in 
Asia  called  Troy,  not  far  from  the  sea-coast,  and 
surrounded  by  a  very  strong  wall.  It  was  full  of 
great  treasures  of  gold  and  silver,  and  its  people 
were  brave  and  happy. 

The  king  of  this  city,  Priam,  was  rich  and  power- 
ful. He  had  a  splendid  palace,  where  he  lived  with 
his  fifty  sons  and  dealt  justice  to  his  people.  But 
in  those  days  men  thought  it  no  harm  to  rob  and 
fight  the  people  of  another  country;  indeed,  they 
thought  it  a  noble  thing  to  live  by  the  pillage  and 
murder  of  foreigners. 

Now  it  happened  that  Paris,  one  of  the  sons  of 
Priam,  travelled  to  Greece  and  came  to  the  country 
of  the  Spartans.  The  king  of  this  country  was 
Menelaus,  (Men  e  la'us)  a  very  brave  man,  whose  wife, 
Helen,  was  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the  world. 

Menelaus  received  Paris  kindly,  and  entertained 
him  as  his  guest  in  his  palace,  feasting  him,  and  show- 
ing him  such  great  honor  as  was  due  to  the  son  of  a 
king.  But  Paris  basely  deceived  his  host  and  did 
him  a  great  wrong  by  stealing  Helen  and  carrying 
her  away  with  him  to  Troy. 


92 


BOOK    FIVE 


At  this  Menelaus  was  very  angry,  and  he  deter- 
mined to  be  revenged.  He  summoned  all  the 
princes  and  kings  of  Greece,  and  they  agreed 
to  help  him  to  punish  Paris  and  to  recover  Helen. 
So  they  got  together  a  vast  number  of  ships  and 
filled  them  with  fighting  men,  and  sailed  for  the 
shores  of  Troy. 

When  they  came  to  Troy,  they  found  that  it  was 
by  no  means  easy  to  take  the  city.  So  they  put  up 
their  tents  and  prepared  to  besiege  it.  For  ten 
long  years  the  army  of  the  Greeks  compassed  it 
round  about,  but  all  in  vain. 

King  Priam  himself  did  not  fight  till  the  very 
last  hour,  but  there  were  many  brave  champions 
on  the  side  of  the  Trojans  as  well  as  on  the  side  of 
the  Greeks,  and  these  delighted  to  meet  in  combat 
on  the  seashore  and  on  the  windy  plains  beneath 
the  walls  of  the  city.  In  these  fights  many  warriors 
met  their  death,  and  among  others  Paris  himself. 
But  still  the  war  continued. 

For  a  long  time  neither  party  seemed  stronger 
than  the  other,  until  the  Greeks  began  to  lose  heart 
and  to  think  that  they  were  never  going  to  take  the 
city  of  Troy,  for  they  could  not  get  within  the  walls, 
however  hard  they  tried  and  however  bravely  they 
fought. 

At  last  they  contrived  a  wonderful  plan.    The  most 


TROY  AND  THE  WOODEN  HORSE      93 

cunning  chieftain  among  them,  Ulysses  (U  lys'  sez) 
the  Crafty,  proposed  that  they  should  construct 
an  enormous  wooden  horse,  and  then,  hiding  their 
bravest  warriors  inside,  that  they  should  by  a  trick 
get  the  Trojans  to  take  it  into  the  city.  So  they 
secretly  made  the  horse,  shut  up  their  champions 
inside  it,  and,  leaving  the  horse  near  the  walls,  pre- 
tended to  sail  away  to  Greece. 

The  Trojans  were  overjoyed  to  see  their  enemies 
depart;  and  when  they  thought  it  was  quite  safe, 
the  people  poured  out  in  a  crowd  from  the  gates 
to  visit  the  deserted  camp  of  the  Greeks.  They 
thought  it  delightful  to  wander  about  the  places 
where  their  dreaded  foes  had  lived  so  long,  and 
they  went  from  one  spot  to  another  remarking  here 
and  there  where  the  tents  of  different  chiefs  had 
stood. 

At  last  they  noticed  the  wooden  horse,  and  they 
thought  it  would  be  a  fine  thing  to  bring  it  into  the 
city.  So  almost  all  the  people,  young  and  old, 
helped  to  drag  the  great  creature  through  an 
opening  that  they  had  made  in  the  wall;  and 
when  they  had  feasted  and  danced  and  sung, 
they  lay  down,  utterly  tired,  to  sleep.  They  little 
knew  what  was  going  to  happen ! 

In  the  meantime,  what  were  the  Greeks  doing  ? 
The  ships  that  had  pretended  to  sail   home   had 


94 


BOOK   FIVE 


not  really  gone  very  far.  They  were  only  hiding 
behind  an  island.  When  it  grew  dark,  without  a 
sound  the  ships  came  back  close  to  the  shore,  and 
the  fighting  men  waded  to  land  and  crouched  down 
outside  the  city  gates. 

Then,  in  the  very  middle  of  the  night,  the  cham- 
pions, still  hidden  in  the  body  of  the  great  horse, 
slipped  quietly  down  and  let  their  friends  in  at  the 
gates. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  city  was  full  of  confusion 
and  clamor.  The  warriors  shouted  and  clashed 
their  weapons,  while  the  women,  children,  and  old 
men  cried  in  vain  for  help.  Many  perished  and 
many  fled;  but  nothing  could  save  the  glorious 
city  of  Troy,  thus  strangely  destroyed  by  the  de- 
vice of  the  wooden  horse. 


pil'lage,  robbery. 

be  re  venged',  to  return  an  injury;  to 

do  harm  for  harm. 
be  siege',  to  hem  in  with  an  army  in 

order  to  capture. 
con  struct',  build, 
com'passed,  enclosed;  went  around. 


cham'pi  on,  one  who  fights  alone  for 

his  army;  a  hero, 
com'bat,  a  fight. 
e  nor'mous,  very  large, 
chieftain,  leader ;  captain, 
clam'or,  great  noise. 


Goodness.  —  Whatever  any  one  does  or  says, 
I  must  be  good;  just  as  if  the  gold,  or  the 
emerald,  or  the  purple,  were  always  saying  this: 
"  Whatever  any  one  else  does,  I  must  be  gold, 
or  emerald,  and  keep  my  color."  — Marcus  Aurelius. 


THE  TROJAN    HORSE 


96  BOOK    FIVE 

THE   VILLAGE   BLACKSMITH. 

HENRY  W.  LONGFELLOW. 

Under  a  spreading  chestnut-tree 

The  village  smithy  stands ; 
The  smith,  a  mighty  man  is  he, 

With  large  and  sinewy  hands ; 
And  the  muscles  of  his  brawny  arms 

Are  strong  as  iron  bands. 

His  hair  is  crisp  and  black  and  long; 

His  face  is  like  the  tan ; 
His  brow  is  wet  with  honest  sweat,  — 

He  earns  whate'er  he  can ; 
And  looks  the  whole  world  in  the  face, 

For  he  owes  not  any  man. 

Week  in,  week  out,  from  morn  till  night, 
You  can  hear  his  bellows  blow  ; 

You  can  hear  him  swing  his  heavy  sledge, 
With  measured  beat  and  slow, 

Like  a  sexton  ringing  the  village  bell, 
When  the  evening  sun  is  low. 

And  children,  coming  home  from  school, 

Look  in  at  the  open  door ; 
They  love  to  see  the  flaming  forge, 


THE   VILLAGE    BLACKSMITH  97 

And  hear  the  bellows  roar, 
And  catch  the  burning  sparks  that  fly- 
Like  chaff  from  a  threshing-floor. 

He  goes  on  Sunday  to  the  church, 

And  sits  among  his  boys ; 
He  hears  the  parson  pray  and  preach, 

He  hears  his  daughter's  voice, 
Singing  in  the  village  choir, 

And  it  makes  his  heart  rejoice. 

It  sounds  to  him  like  her  mother's  voice, 

Singing  in  Paradise ! 
He  needs  must  think  of  her  once  more, 

How  in  the  grave  she  lies ; 
And  with  his  hard,  rough  hand  he  wipes 

A  tear  out  of  his  eyes. 

Toiling,  rejoicing,  sorrowing, 

Onward  through  life  he  goes  ; 
Each  morning  sees  some  task  begun, 

Each  evening  sees  it  close ; 
Something  attempted,  something  done, 

Has  earned  a  night's  repose. 

Thanks,  thanks  to  thee,  my  worthy  friend, 
For  the  lesson  thou  hast  taught ! 

Thus  at  the  flaming  forge  of  life 
Our  fortunes  must  be  wrought ; 


98  BOOK   FIVE 

Thus  on  its  sounding  anvil  shaped 
Each  burning  deed  and  thought ! 

smith'y,  the  workshop  of  a  smith.       |  Par'a  dise,   a   place   of   happiness; 

heaven. 


THE  FLYING  TRUNK. 

HANS  CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN. 

There  was  once  a  merchant  who  was  so  rich  that 
he  might  have  paved  the  whole  street,  and  a  little 
alley  besides,  with  silver  money.  But  he  didn't  do 
it  —  he  knew  how  to  use  his  money  better  than 
that.  If  he  laid  out  a  penny,  he  got  half  a  dollar  in 
return,  such  a  clever  man  of  business  was  he  —  and 
then  he  died. 

His  son  got  all  the  money,  and  he  led  a  merry 
life.  He  used  to  go  to  masquerades  every  night, 
made  kites  of  bank-notes,  and  played  ducks  and 
drakes  with  gold  coins  instead  of  stones.  In  this 
way  the  money  soon  went.  At  last  he  had  only  a 
penny  left,  and  no  clothes  except  an  old  dressing- 
gown  and  a  pair  of  slippers.  His  friends  cared  for 
him  no  longer,  for  they  couldn't  walk  about  the 
streets  with  him ;  but  one  of  them  who  was  kind 
sent  him  an  old  trunk,  and  said,  "  Pack  up."     Now 


THE    FLYING   TRUNK  99 

this  was  all  very  well,  but  he  had  nothing  to  pack, 
so  he  got  into  the  trunk  himself. 

It  was  a  most  peculiar  trunk.  If  one  pressed  the 
lock  the  trunk  could  fly ;  and  this  is  what  happened : 
With  a  whiz  it  flew  up  the  chimney,  taking  the 
merchant's  foolish  son  high  above  the  clouds, 
farther  and  farther  away.  The  bottom  of  it  cracked 
ominously,  and  he  was  dreadfully  afraid  it  would  go 
to  pieces,  and  a  nice  fall  he  would  have  had ! 

At  last  he  arrived  in  the  country  of  the  Turks. 
He  hid  the  trunk  in  a  wood  under  the  dead  leaves, 
and  walked  into  the  town.  He  could  easily  do  that, 
as  all  the  Turks  wear  dressing-gowns  and  slippers 
just  as  he  did.     He  met  a  nurse  with  a  baby. 

"  I  say,  you  Turkish  nurse,"  said  he, "  what  is  that 
big  palace  close  to  the  town,  where  all  the  windows 
are  so  high  up  ? " 

"  That's  where  the  king's  daughter  lives,"  said 
she.  "  It  has  been  prophesied  that  she  will  be 
made  very  unhappy  by  a  lover,  so  no  one  is  allowed 
to  visit  her  except  when  the  king  and  queen  go 
with  them." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  merchant's  son.  Then  he 
went  back  to  the  wood  and  got  into  his  trunk  again, 
flew  up  to  the  roof  of  the  palace,  and  crept  in  at 
the  princess's  window. 

She  was  lying  on  a  sofa,  fast  asleep.     She  was  so 


ioo  BOOK    FIVE 

very  beautiful  that  the  merchant's  son  was  driven 
to  kiss  her.  She  woke  up  and  was  dreadfully 
frightened,  but  he  said  he  was  the  Prophet  of  the 
Turks  and  that  he  had  flown  down  through  the  air 
to  see  her.     This  pleased  her  very  much. 

They  sat  side  by  side,  and  he  told  her  stories  about 
her  eyes ;  he  said  they  were  like  the  most  beautiful 
deep,  dark  lakes,  in  which  her  thoughts  floated  like 
mermaids.  Then  he  told  her  about  her  forehead, 
saying  that  it  was  like  a  snow  mountain,  adorned 
with  a  series  of  pictures.  After  he  had  told  her 
a  great  number  of  these  beautiful  stories,  he  asked 
her  to  marry  him,  and  she  at  once  said  "Yes." 

"  But  you  must  come  here  on  Saturday,"  she  said, 
"  when  the  king  and  the  queen  drink  tea  with  me. 
They  will  be  very  proud  when  they  hear  that  I  am 
to  marry  a  prophet.  But  be  sure  that  you  have  a 
splendid  story  to  tell  them,  for  my  parents  are  very 
fond  of  stories ;  my  mother  likes  them  to  be  grand 
and  very  proper,  but  my  father  likes  them  to  be 
merry,  so  that  he  can  laugh  at  them." 

"  Well,  a  story  will  be  my  only  wedding-gift,"  he 
said,  and  then  they  separated  ;  but  the  princess  gave 
him  a  sword  carved  with  gold.  It  was  the  kind  of 
present  he  needed  badly. 

He  flew  away  and  bought  himself  a  new  dressing- 
gown,  and  sat  down  in  the  wood  to  make  up  a  new 


THE   FLYING   TRUNK  101 

story.  It  had  to  be  ready  by  Saturday,  and,  it  .is  not 
always  so  easy  to  make  up  a  story.  -    [l'  V  | 

However,  he  had  it  ready  in  time,  and  Saturday 
came.  The  king,  the  queen,  and  the  whole  court 
were  waiting  for  him  round  the  princess's  tea-table. 
He  had  a  charming  reception. 

"  Now  will  you  tell  us  a  story  ? "  said  the  queen, 
"one  which  is  both  thoughtful  and  instructive." 

"  But  one  that  we  can  laugh  at,  too,"  said  the 
king. 

"  All  right ! "  said  he,  and  then  he  began.  We 
must  listen  to  his  story  attentively. 

THE    STORY    OF   THE    MATCHES. 

"  There  was  once  a  bundle  of  matches,  and  they 
were  very  proud  because  of  their  high  origin. 
Their  family  tree,  that  is  to  say  the  great  pine  tree 
of  which  each  of  them  was  a  little  splinter,  had 
been  the  giant  of  the  forest.  The  matches  now 
lay  on  a  shelf  between  a  tinder-box  and  an  old  iron 
pot,  and  they  told  the  whole  story  of  their  youth 
to  these  two. 

"  *  Ah,  when  we  were  a  living  tree,'  said  they,  *  we 
were  indeed  a  green  branch !  Every  morning  and 
every  evening  we  had  diamond-tea,  that  was  the 
dewdrops.  In  the  day  we  had  the  sunshine,  and 
all  the  little  birds  to  tell  us  stories.     We  could  see, 


102  BOOK   FIVE 

too,  that  we  were  very  rich,  for  most  of  the  other 
trees  were  clad  only  in  summer,  but  our  family 
could  afford  to  have  green  clothes  both  summer 
and  winter. 

"  'But  then  the  wood-cutters  came,  and  there  was 
a  great  revolution,  and  our  family  was  separated. 
The  head  of  the  tribe  got  a  place  as  mainmast  on  a 
splendid  ship,  which  could  sail  round  the  world  if 
it  chose.  The  other  branches  were  scattered  in  dif- 
ferent directions,  and  it  is  now  our  task  to  give  light 
to  the  common  herd,  —  that  is  how  such  aristocratic 
people  as  ourselves  have  come  into  this  kitchen.9 

"  *  Now,  my  lot  has  been  different ! '  said  the  iron 
pot,  beside  which  the  matches  lay.  *  Ever  since  I 
came  into  the  world  I  have  passed  the  time  in 
being  scoured  and  boiled,  over  and  over  again! 
Everything  solid  comes  to  me,  and  in  fact  I  am  the 
most  important  person  in  the  house.  My  pleasure 
is  when  the  dinner  is  over,  to  lie  clean  and  bright 
on  the  shelf,  and  to  have  a  sensible  chat  with  my 
companions.  With  the  exception  of  the  water- 
bucket  which  sometimes  goes  down  into  the  yard, 
we  lead  an  indoor  life.  Our  only  newsbearer  is 
the  market-basket,  and  it  talks  very  wildly  about 
the  Government  and  the  People.  Why,  the  other 
day  an  old  pot  was  so  alarmed  by  the  conversation, 
that  it  fell  down  and  broke  itself  to  pieces  I ' 


THE   FLYING  TRUNK  103 

"  *  You  are  talking  too  much/  said  the  tinder-box, 
and  the  steel  struck  sparks  on  the  flint.  'Let  us 
have  a  merry  evening/ 

" '  Yes,  pray  let  us  settle  which  is  the  most  aristo- 
cratic among  us,'  said  the  matches. 

" '  No,  I  don't  like  talking  about  myself,'  said 
the  earthen  pipkin.  '  Let  us  have  an  evening  en- 
tertainment !  I  will  begin.  I  will  tell  you  the 
kind  of  things  we  have  all  experienced;  they  are 
quite  easy  to  understand,  and  that  is  why  we 
all  like  them.  By  the  eastern  sea  and  Danish 
beeches  — ' 

"  *  That's  a  nice  beginning  to  make ! '  said  all 
the  plates.  '  I  am  sure  that  will  be  a  story  we  shall 
like ! ' 

" '  Well,  I  passed  my  youth  there,  in  a  very  quiet 
family.  The  furniture  was  beeswaxed,  the  floors 
washed,  and  clean  curtains  were  put  up  once  a 
fortnight ! ' 

" '  What  a  good  story-teller  you  are,'  said  the 
broom.  '  One  can  tell  directly  that  it's  a  woman 
telling  the  story,  for  a  vein  of  cleanliness  runs 
through  it ! ' 

" '  Yes,  one  feels  that,'  said  the  water-pail,  and  for 
very  joy  it  gave  a  little  hop  which  clashed  on  the 
floor. 

"  The  pipkin  went  on  with  its  story,  and  the  end 


104  BOOK   FIVE 

was  much  the  same  as  the  beginning.  All  the 
plates  clattered  with  joy,  and  the  broom  crowned 
the  pipkin  with  a  wreath  of  parsley,  because  it 
knew  it  would  annoy  the  others;  and  it  thought, 
'  If  I  crown  her  to-day,  she  will  crown  me  to- 
morrow.' 

" '  Now  I  will  dance,'  said  the  tongs,  and  began 
to  dance.  '  Mayn't  I  be  crowned  too  ? '  she  said. 
So  they  crowned  her. 

"'  They're  only  a  crowd  of  noisy  people  after  all,' 
said  the  matches. 

"  The  tea-urn  was  called  upon  to  sing  now,  but  it 
had  a  cold,  it  said.  It  couldn't  sing  except  when  it 
was  boiling ;  but  that  was  all  because  it  was  stuck- 
up.  It  wouldn't  sing  except  when  it  was  on  the 
drawing-room  table. 

"  There  was  an  old  quill  pen,  along  on  the  win- 
dow-sill, with  which  the  servant  used  to  write. 
There  was  nothing  extraordinary  about  it,  except 
that  it  had  been  dipped  too  far  into  the  ink,  but 
it  was  rather  proud  of  that.  '  If  the  tea-urn  won't 
sing,  it  can  let  it  alone,'  it  said.  ■  There  is  a  nightin- 
gale hanging  outside  in  a  cage ;  it  can  sing.  It  cer- 
tainly hasn't  learnt  anything  special,  but  we  needn't 
mind  that  to-night.' 

" '  I  think  it  is  most  unsuitable,'  said  the  kettle, 
which  was  the  kitchen  songster,  and  half-sister  of 


THE    FLYING   TRUNK  105 

the  urn,  'that  a  strange  bird  like  that  should  be 
listened  to !  Is  it  patriotic  ?  I  will  let  the  market- 
basket  judge.' 

" '  I  am  very  much  annoyed,'  said  the  market- 
basket.  '  I  am  more  annoyed  than  any  one  can 
tell!  Is  this  a  suitable  way  to  spend  an  evening? 
Wouldn't  it  be  better  to  put  the  house  to  rights  ? 
Then  everything  would  find  its  proper  place,  and  I 
would  manage  the  whole  party.  Then  we  should 
get  on  differently  ! ' 

"  ■  Yes,  let  us  make  a  row ! '  they  all  said  together. 

"At  that  moment  the  door  opened;  it  was  the 
servant,  and  they  all  stood  still.  Nobody  uttered 
a  sound.  But  there  was  not  a  pot  among  them 
which  didn't  know  its  size  and  strength,  or  how 
distinguished  it  was.  '  If  /  had  chosen,  we  might 
have  had  a  merry  evening,  and  no  mistake,'  they 
all  thought. 

"  The  servant  took  the  matches  and  struck  a  light ; 
preserve  us  !  how  they  sputtered  and  blazed  up. 

" '  Now  every  one  can  see,'  they  thought,  *  that  we 
are  the  first.  How  brilliantly  we  shine !  What  a  light 
we  shed  around ! '  —  And  then  they  were  burnt  out." 

"  That  was  a  splendid  story,"  said  the  queen.  "  I 
quite  felt  that  I  was  in  the  kitchen  with  the  matches. 
Yes  indeed,  you  shall  marry  our  daughter." 


106  BOOK   FIVE 

"Certainly !  "'said  the  king.  "You  shall  marry 
her  on  Monday !  " 

So  the  wedding  was  decided  upon,  and  the  even- 
ing before  the  town  was  illuminated.  Buns  and 
cakes  were  scattered  broadcast.  The  street  boys 
stood  on  tiptoe  and  shouted  hurrah,  and  whistled 
through  their  fingers.  Everything  was  most  gor- 
geous. 

"  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  do  something,  too," 
said  the  merchant's  son.  So  he  bought  hundreds  of 
rockets,  squibs,  and  all  sorts  of  fireworks,  put  them 
into  his  trunk,  and  flew  up  into  the  air  with  them. 

All  the  Turks  jumped  about  at  the  sight,  so  that 
their  slippers  flew  into  the  air.  They  had  never 
seen  a  flight  of  meteors  like  that  before.  They  saw 
now  without  doubt  that  it  was  the  prophet  himself, 
who  was  about  to  marry  the  princess. 

As  soon  as  the  merchant's  son  got  down  again 
into  the  wood  with  his  trunk,  he  thought,  "  I  will 
just  go  into  the  town  to  hear  what  was  thought 
of  the  display,"  and  it  was  quite  proper  that  he 
should  do  so. 

Oh,  how  every  one  talked!  Every  single  man 
he  spoke  to  had  his  own  opinion  about  it,  but  that 
it  had  been  splendid  was  the  universal  opinion. 

11 1  saw  the  prophet  myself,"  said  one.  "  His  eyes 
were  like  stars,  and  his  beard  like  foaming  water." 


THE   FLYING   TRUNK 


107 


"  He  was  wrapped  in  a  mantle  of  fire,"  said 
another.  "  The  most  beautiful  angels'  heads  peeped 
out  among  the  folds." 

He  heard  nothing  but  pleasant  things,  and  the 
next  day  was  to  be  his  wedding-day.  He  went  back 
to  the  wood  to  get  into  his  trunk — but  where  was  it? 
The  trunk  was  burnt  up.  A  spark  from  the  fire- 
works had  set  fire  to  it  and  the  trunk  was  burnt  to 
ashes.  He  could  not  fly  any  more,  or  reach  his 
bride.  She  stood  all  day  on  the  roof  waiting  for 
him.  She  is  waiting  for  him  still,  but  he  wanders 
around  the  world  telling  stories,  but  they  are  no 
longer  so  merry  as  the  one  he  told  about  the 
matches. 


mas  quer  ade',  a  party  at  which  the 
people  dress  in  such  a  way  that 
no  one  will  know  them. 

proph'e  sied,  told  beforehand. 

om'i  nous  ly,  in  a  threatening  way. 

mer'maid,  a  fabled  creature,  having 
the  upper  part  like  a  lovely 
woman,  and  the  lower  part  like 
a  fish. 


rev  0  lu'tion,  a  complete  change, 
ar  is  to  crat'ic,  of  high  rank, 
pip'kin,  a  small  jar  of  earthen-ware. 
ex  traor'di  na  ry,  unusual;  strange, 
u  ni  ver'sal  0  pin'ion,  the  thought  of 

every  one. 
me'te  ors,  "shooting  stars." 


Govern  the  lips 
As  they  were  palace  doors,  the  king  within ; 
Tranquil  and  fair  and  courteous  be  all  words 
Which  from  that  presence  win.  — Edwin  Arnold. 


108  BOOK   FIVE 

THE   WIND   AND   THE   MOON. 

GEORGE  MacDONALD. 

Said  the  Wind  to  the  Moon,  "  I  will  blow  you  out 

You  stare  in  the  air 

Like  a  ghost  in  a  chair, 
Always  looking  what  I  am  about. 
I  hate  to  be  watched ;  I  will  blow  you  out." 

The  Wind  blew  hard,  and  out  went  the  Moon. 

So,  deep  on  a  heap 

Of  clouds  to  sleep 
Down  lay  the  Wind,  and  slumbered  soon, 
Muttering  low,  "  I've  done  for  that  Moon." 

He  turned  in  his  bed ;  she  was  there  again. 

On  high  in  the  sky, 

With  her  one  ghost  eye, 
The  Moon  shone  white  and  alive  and  plain. 
Said  the  Wind,  "  I  will  blow  you  out  again." 

The  Wind  blew  hard,  and  the  Moon  grew  dim. 
"  With  my  sledge  and  my  wedge 
I  have  knocked  off  her  edge. 
If  only  I  blow  right  fierce  and  grim, 
The  creature  will  soon  be  dimmer  than  dim." 


no  BOOK   FIVE 

He  blew  and  he  blew,  and  she  thinned  to  a  thread ; 

" One  puff  mores  enough 

To  blow  her  to  snuff! 
One  good  puff  more  where  the  last  was  bred, 
And  glimmer,  glimmer  glum,  will  go  the  thread." 

He  blew  a  great  blast,  and  the  thread  was  gone ; 

In  the  air  nowhere 

Was  a  moonbeam  bare ; 
Far  off  and  harmless  the  shy  stars  shone ; 
Sure  and  certain  the  Moon  was  gone ! 

The  Wind  he  took  to  his  revels  once  more ; 

On  down,  in  town, 

Like  a  merry  mad  clown, 
He  leaped  and  hallooed  with  whistle  and  roar. 
"  What's  that  ?  "    The  glimmering  thread  once  more. 

He  flew  in  a  rage  —  he  danced  and  blew ; 

But  in  vain  was  the  pain 

Of  his  bursting  brain ; 
For  still  the  broader  the  moon-scrap  grew, 
The  broader  he  swelled  his  big  cheeks  and  blew. 

Slowly  she  grew,  till  she  filled  the  night, 

And  shone  on  her  throne 

In  the  sky  alone, 
A  matchless,  wonderful,  silvery  light, 
Radiant  and  lovely,  the  queen  of  the  night 


THE  WIND  AND  THE  MOON        in 

Said  the  Wind,  "  What  a  marvel  of  power  am  I ! 

With  my  breath,  good  faith, 

I  blew  her  to  death ;  — 
First  blew  her  away,  right  out  of  the  sky, 
Then  blew  her  in  ;  what  a  strength  am  I ! " 

But  the  Moon,  she  knew  nothing  about  the  affair, 

For,  high  in  the  sky, 

With  her  one  white  eye, 
Motionless,  miles  above  the  air, 
She  had  never  heard  the  great  Wind  blare. 

rev'els,  sports.  |      marvel  of  power,  very  strong  creature. 

George  MacDonald  was  born  in  Scotland  in  1824.  His 
novels  have  made  him  well  known,  and  he  has  also  written  many 
stories  and  poems  for  young  people.  "The  Princess  and  the 
Goblin "  and  "  At  the  Back  of  the  North  Wind "  are  his  best 
fairy  stories. 


PERFECTION. 

WILLIAM   SHAKESPEARE. 

To  gild  refined  gold,  to  paint  the  lily, 

To  throw  a  perfume  on  the  violet, 

To  smooth  the  ice,  or  add  another  hue 

Unto  the  rainbow,  or  with  taper-light 

To  seek  the  beauteous  eye  of  heaven  to  garnish, 

Is  wasteful,  and  ridiculous  excess. 

William  Shakespeare  (1 564-1 61 6)  is  the  greatest  English  poet 
and  one  of  the  world's  greatest  poets. 


ii2  BOOK    FIVE 

THE   GREEDY   SHEPHERD. 

FRANCES  BROWNE. 
I. 

Once  upon  a  time  there  lived  in  the  south  country 
two  brothers,  whose  business  it  was  to  keep  sheep 
on  a  great,  grassy  plain,  which  was  bounded  on  the 
one  side  by  a  forest,  and  on  the  other  by  a  chain  of 
high  hills.  No  one  lived  on  that  plain  but  shep- 
herds, who  dwelt  in  low  cottages,  and  watched  their 
sheep  so  carefully  that  no  lamb  was  ever  lost.  Nor 
had*  one  of  the  shepherds  ever  travelled  beyond  the 
foot  of  the  hills  and  the  skirts  of  the  forest. 

There  were  none  among  them  more  careful  than 
these  two  brothers,  one  of  whom  was  called  Clutch, 
and  the  other  Kind.  Though  born  brothers,  two 
men  of  distant  countries  could  not  be  more  unlike 
in  disposition.  Clutch  thought  of  nothing  in  this 
world  but  how  to  catch  and  keep  some  profit  for 
himself,  while  Kind  would  have  shared  his  last 
morsel  with  a  hungry  dog. 

This  covetous  mind  made  Clutch  keep  all  his 
father's  sheep  when  the  old  man  was  dead  and 
gone,  because  he  was  the  elder  brother,  allowing 
Kind  nothing  but  the  place  of  a  servant  to  help 
him  in  looking  after  them.    Kind  would  not  quarrel 


THE    GREEDY   SHEPHERD  113 

with  his  brother  for  the  sake  of  the  sheep,  so  he 
helped  him  to  keep  them,  and  Clutch  had  all  his 
own  way.     This  made  him  agreeable. 

For  some  time  the  brothers  lived  peaceably  in 
their  father's  cottage,  which  stood  low  and  lonely 
under  the  shadow  of  a  great  sycamore  tree.  They 
kept  their  flock  on  the  grassy  plain,  always  having 
their  pipe  and  crook  with  them,  till  new  troubles 
arose  through  Clutch's  covetousness. 

On  that  plain  there  was  neither  town,  nor  city, 
nor  market-place,  where  people  might  sell  or  buy, 
but  the  shepherds  cared  little  for  trade.  The  wool 
of  their  flocks  made  them  clothes ;  their  milk  gave 
them  butter  and  cheese.  At  feast  times  every  family 
killed  a  lamb  or  so,  and  their  fields  yielded  them 
wheat  for  bread.  The  forest  supplied  them  with 
firewood  for  winter;  and  every  midsummer,  which 
is  the  sheep-shearing  time,  traders  from  a  certain 
far-off  city  came  through  it  by  an  ancient  way  to 
purchase  all  the  wool  the  shepherds  could  spare,  and 
give  them  in  exchange  either  goods  or  money. 

One  midsummer  it  so  happened  that  these  traders 
praised  the  wool  of  Clutch's  flock  above  all  they 
found  on  the  plain,  and  gave  him  the  highest  price 
for  it.  That  was  an  unlucky  happening  for  the 
sheep:  thenceforth  Clutch  thought  he  could  never 
get  enough  wool  off  them. 


ii4  BOOK    FIVE 

At  the  shearing  time  nobody  else  clipped  so  close, 
and  in  spite  of  all  Kind  could  do  or  say,  he  left 
the  poor  sheep  as  bare  as  if  they  had  been  shaven. 
And  as  soon  as  the  wool  grew  long  enough  to  keep 
them  warm,  he  was  ready  with  the  shears  again  — 
no  matter  how  chilly  might  be  the  days,  or  how 
near  the  winter.  Kind  did  not  like  these  doings, 
and  they  caused  many  a  debate  between  him  and 
his  brother. 

Clutch  always  tried  to  persuade  him  that  close 
clipping  was  good  for  the  sheep,  and  Kind  always 
strove  to  make  him  think  he  had  got  all  the  wool — 
so  they  were  never  done  with  disputes.  Still  Clutch 
sold  the  wool,  and  stored  up  his  profits,  and  one 
midsummer  after  another  passed.  The  shepherds 
began  to  think  him  a  rich  man,  and  close  clipping 
might  have  become  the  fashion,  but  for  a  strange 
thing  which  happened  to  his  flock. 

The  wool  had  grown  well  that  summer.  He  had 
taken  two  crops  off  his  sheep,  and  was  thinking  of 
a  third,  —  though  the  misty  mornings  of  autumn 
had  come,  and  the  cold  evenings  made  the  shepherds 
put  on  their  winter  cloaks,  —  when  first  the  lambs, 
and  then  the  ewes  began  to  stray  away ;  and  search 
as  the  brothers  would,  not  one  of  them  was  ever 
found  again. 

Clutch    blamed    Kind    for    being    careless,   and 


THE   GREEDY   SHEPHERD 


"5 


watched  with  all  his  might.  Kind  knew  it  was  not 
his  fault,  but  he  kept  a  sharper  watch  than  ever. 
Still  the  straying  went  on.  The  flocks  grew  smaller 
every  day,  and  all  the  brothers  could  find  out  was, 
that  the  closest  clipped  were  the  first  to  go ;  and, 
count  the  flock  when  they  might,  some  were  sure 
to  be  missed  at  the  folding. 


Kind  grew  tired  of  watching,  and  Clutch  lost  his 
sleep  with  vexation.  The  other  shepherds,  over 
whom  Clutch  boasted  of  his  wool  and  his  profits, 
were  not  sorry  to  see  pride  having  a  fall.  Most  of 
them  pitied  Kind,  but  all  of  them  agreed  that  they 
had  marvellous  ill-luck,  and  kept  as  far  from  them 
as  they  could  for  fear  of  sharing  it. 

Still  the  flock  melted  away  as  the  months  wore 
on.     Storms  and  cold  weather  never  stopped  them 


n6  BOOK   FIVE 

from  straying,  and  when  the  spring  came  back, 
nothing  remained  with  Clutch  and  Kind  but  three 
old  ewes,  the  quietest  and  lamest  of  their  whole 
flock.  They  were  watching  these  ewes  one  even- 
ing, in  the  primrose  time,  when  Clutch,  who  had 
never  kept  his  eyes  off  them  that  day,  said :  — 

"  Brother,  there  is  wool  to  be  had  on  their  backs." 

"  It  is  too  little  to  keep  them  warm,"  said  Kind. 
"  The  east  wind  still  blows  sometimes,"  —  but  Clutch 
was  off  to  the  cottage  for  the  bag  and  shears. 

Kind  was  grieved  to  see  his  brother  so  covetous, 
and  to  divert  his  mind  he  looked  up  at  the  great 
hills.  It  was  a  sort  of  comfort  to  him,  ever  since 
their  losses  began,  to  look  at  them  evening  and 
morning.  Now  their  far-off  heights  were  growing 
crimson  with  the  setting  sun,  but  as  he  looked, 
three  creatures  like  sheep  fled  up  a  cleft  as  fleet  as 
any  deer.  When  Kind  turned,  he  saw  his  brother 
coming  with  the  bag  and  shears,  but  not  a  sheep 
was  to  be  seen.  Clutch's  first  question  was,  What 
had  become  of  them?  and  when  Kind  told  him 
what  he  saw,  the  elder  brother  scolded  him  for  ever 
lifting  his  eyes  off  them. 

"  Much  good  the  hills  and  sunset  will  do  us," 
said  he,  "now  that  we  have  not  a  single  sheep.  The 
other  shepherds  will  hardly  give  us  room  among 
them  at  shearing  time  or  harvest,  but  for  my  part, 


THE   GREEDY   SHEPHERD  117 

I'll  not  stay  on  this  plain  to  be  despised  for  poverty. 
If  you  like  to  come  with  me,  and  be  guided  by  my 
advice,  we  will  get  service  somewhere.  I  have  heard 
my  father  say  that  there  were  great  shepherds  living 
in  old  times  beyond  the  hills ;  let  us  go  and  see  if 
they  will  take  us  for  sheep-boys." 

Kind  would  rather  have  stayed  and  tilled  his 
father's  wheat-field,  hard  by  the  cottage;  but  since 
his  eldest  brother  would  go,  he  resolved  to  bear  him 
company.  Next  morning,  accordingly,  Clutch  took 
his  bag  and  shears,  Kind  took  his  crook  and  pipe, 
and  away  they  went  over  the  plain  and  up  the  hills. 

II. 

All  who  saw  them  thought  they  had  lost  their 
senses,  since  no  shepherd  had  gone  there  for  a  hun- 
dred years,  and  nothing  was  to  be  seen  but  wide 
moorlands,  full  of  rugged  rocks.  Kind  persuaded  his 
brother  to  take  the  direction  the  sheep  had  gone, 
but  the  ground  was  so  rough  and  steep,  that  after 
two  hours'  climbing  they  would  gladly  have  turned 
back,  if  it  had  not  been  that  their  sheep  were  gone, 
and  the  shepherds  would  laugh  at  them. 

By  noon  they  came  to  the  stony  cleft  up  which 
the  three  old  ewes  had  run  like  deer;  but  both 
were  tired,  and  sat  down  to  rest.  Their  feet  were 
sore,   and   their  hearts   were   heavy;  but   as   they 


u8  BOOK   FIVE 

waited,  there  came  a  sound  of  music  down  the  hills, 
as  if  a  thousand  shepherds  had  been  piping.  Clutch 
and  Kind  had  never  heard  such  music  before. 

As  they  listened,  the  soreness  passed  from  their 
feet,  and  the  heaviness  from  their  hearts ;  and  arising, 
they  followed  the  sound  up  the  cleft,  and  over  a  wide 
heath,  covered  with  purple  bloom.  At  sunset  they 
came  to  the  hilltop,  and  saw  a  broad  pasture,  where 
violets  grew  thick  among  the  grass,  and  thousands  of 
snow-white  sheep  were  feeding,  while  an  old  man  sat 
in  the  midst  of  them  playing  on  his  pipe. 

He  wore  a  long  coat,  the  color  of  the  holly  leaves. 
His  hair  hung  to  his  waist,  and  his  beard  to  his 
knees.  Both  were  as  white  as  snow,  and  he  had  the 
countenance  of  one  who  had  led  a  quiet  life,  and 
known  no  cares  or  losses. 

"  Good  father,"  said  Kind,  for  his  elder  brother 
hung  back  and  was  afraid,  "  tell  us  what  land  is  this, 
and  where  can  we  find  service ;  for  my  brother  and  I 
are  shepherds,  and  can  well  keep  flocks  from  stray- 
ing, though  we  have  lost  our  own." 

"  These  are  the  hill  pastures,"  said  the  old  man, 
"  and  I  am  the  ancient  shepherd.  My  flocks  never 
stray,  but  I  have  employment  for  you.  Which  of 
you  can  shear  best?" 

"  Good  father,"  said  Clutch,  taking  courage,  "  I 
am  the  closest  shearer  in  all  the  plain  country;  you 


THE   GREEDY   SHEPHERD  119 

would  not  find  as  much  wool  on  a  sheep  when  I 
have  done  with  it  as  would  make  a  thread." 

"  You  are  the  man  for  my  business,"  replied  the 
old  shepherd.  "  When  the  moon  rises,  I  will  call 
the  flock  you  have  to  shear.  Till  then,  sit  down  and 
rest,  and  take  your  supper  out  of  my  wallet." 

Clutch  and  Kind  gladly  sat  down  by  him  among 
the  violets,  and,  opening  a  leathern  bag  which  hung 
by  his  side,  the  old  man  gave  them  cakes  and  cheese, 
and  a  horn  cup  to  drink  from  at  a  stream  hard  by. 
The  brothers  felt  fit  for  any  work  after  that  meal ; 
and  Clutch  rejoiced  at  the  chance  he  had  for  show- 
ing his  skill  with  the  shears.  "  Kind  will  see  how 
useful  it  is  to  cut  close,"  he  thought  to  himself. 

They  sat  with  the  old  man,  telling  him  the  news 
of  the  plain,  till  the  sun  went  down  and  the  moon 
rose,  and  all  the  snow-white  sheep  gathered  and  laid 
themselves  down  behind  him.  Then  he  took  his 
pipe  and  played  a  merry  tune,  when  immediately 
there  was  heard  a  great  howling,  and  up  the  hills 
came  a  troop  of  shaggy  wolves,  with  hair  so  long  that 
their  eyes  could  scarcely  be  seen.  Clutch  would 
have  fled  for  fear,  but  the  wolves  stopped,  and  the  old 
man  said  to  him :  — 

"Rise,  and  shear  —  this  flock  of  mine  have  too 
much  wool  on  them." 

Clutch  had  never  shorn  wolves  before,  yet  he  could 


i20  BOOK   FIVE 

not  think  of  losing  and  went  forward  with  a  stout 
heart.  But  the  first  of  the  wolves  showed  its  teeth, 
and  all  the  rest  raised  such  a  howl  when  he  came 
near  them,  that  Clutch  was  glad  to  throw  down  his 
shears,  and  run  behind  the  old  man  for  safety. 

"  Good  father,"  cried  he,  "  I  will  shear  sheep,  but 
not  wolves." 

"  They  must  be  shorn,"  said  the  old  man,  "  or  you 
go  back  to  the  plains,  and  they  after  you ;  but 
whichever  of  you  can  shear  them  will  get  the  whole 
flock." 

On  hearing  this,  Clutch  began  to  exclaim  over 
his  hard  fortune,  and  accused  his  brother  of  bring- 
ing him  there  to  be  hunted  and  devoured  by  wolves. 
But  Kind,  thinking  that  things  could  be  no  worse, 
caught  up  the  shears  his  brother  had  thrown  away 
and  went  boldly  up  to  the  nearest  wolf. 

To  his  great  surprise,  the  wild  creature  seemed  to 
know  him,  and  stood  quietly  to  be  shorn,  while  the 
rest  of  the  flock  gathered  round  as  if  waiting  their 
turn.  Kind  clipped  neatly,  but  not  too  close,  and 
heaped  up  the  hair  on  one  side.  When  he  had 
finished  one,  another  came  forward,  and  Kind  went 
on  shearing  by  the  bright  moonlight  till  the  whole 
flock  were  shorn.     Then  the  old  man  said  :  — 

"  You  have  done  well ;  take  the  wool  and  the 
flock  for  your  wages,  return  with  them  to  the  plain, 


THE   GREEDY   SHEPHERD 


121 


and,  if  you  please,  take  this  little-worth  brother  of 
yours  for  a  boy  to  keep  them." 

Kind  did  not  much  like  keeping  wolves,  but  before 
he  could  make  answer,  they  had  all  changed  into  the 
very  sheep  which  had  strayed  away  so  strangely.  All 
of  them  had  grown  fatter  and  thicker  of  fleece,  and 
the  hair  he  had  cut  off  lay  by  his  side,  a  heap  of 
wool  so  fine  and  soft  that  its  like  had  never  been 
seen  on  the  plain. 

Clutch  gathered  it  up  in  his  empty  bag,  and  glad 
was  he  to  go  back  to  the  plain  with  his  brother ;  for 
the  old  man  sent  them  away  with  their  flock,  saying 
no  man  might  see  the  dawn  of  day  on  that  pasture 
but  himself,  for  it  was  the  ground  of  the  fairies.  So 
Clutch  and  Kind  went  home  with  great  gladness. 
All  the  shepherds  came  to  hear  their  wonderful  story, 
and  ever  after  liked  to  keep  near  them  because  they 
had  such  good  luck.  They  keep  the  sheep  together 
till  this  day,  but  Clutch  has  grown  less  greedy,  and 
Kind  alone  uses  the  shears. 


dis  po  si'tion,  nature  ;  natural  temper. 

mor'sel,  a  small  piece  ;   bit. 

COv'et  ous,  greedy  ;   selfish. 

crook,  a  staff  having  a  bent  end. 

an'cient,  very  old. 

de  bate',  a  contest  in  words. 

syc'a  more,  a  large  tree  ;  plane  tree. 


prim'rose,  a  small  spring  flower. 

di  vert',  to  turn  aside  or  away. 

fleet,  swift,  fast. 

em  ploy'ment,  work. 

pipe,  a  musical  instrument,  often  made 

of  straws  or  reeds, 
coun'te  nance,  face. 


Frances  Browne  was  a  blind  Irish  poetess,  born  about  1816. 
This  selection  is  from  "  The  Wonderful  Chair." 


122  BOOK   FIVE 


A   TALE   OF   A    FOREST   FIRE. 

"  Children,  I  will  dismiss  you  now.  The  air  is 
becoming  so  thick  with  smoke  that  I  am  afraid 
forest  fires  have  broken  out  not  far  off.  Go  home 
as  quickly  as  you  can."  So  spoke  Miss  Nelson,  the 
teacher  of  a  school  in  northern  Ontario.  It  was 
about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  in  less  than 
two  minutes  the  schoolhouse  was  empty. 

For  six  weeks  there  had  been  little  or  no  rain. 
Fire  had  broken  out  in  the  forest  in  different  places, 
but  as  the  weather  had  been  calm,  it  had  not  spread, 
but  had  quickly  burned  itself  out.  Now,  however, 
wind  had  sprung  up,  fire  had  broken  out  again,  and 
great  clouds  of  smoke  were  already  blowing  over  the 
schoolhouse. 

When  the  children  separated  and  went  off  in  dif- 
ferent directions,  one  little  party  of  three  took  a 
road  leading  north.  These  were  Mabel  Howard, 
a  girl  of  sixteen,  and  the  two  brothers,  Tim  and 
Harry  Lennox,  aged  eleven  and  nine  years.  The 
parents  of  these  children  lived  three  miles  from  the 
schoolhouse  on  adjoining  farms,  which  were  not 
likely  to  be  reached  by  the  fires ;  so  the  young  peo- 
ple had  no  fear  for  the  safety  of  their  own  homes. 


A  TALE   OF   A   FOREST   FIRE  123 

They  trudged  cheerily  on  until  they  came  to  a 
belt  of  forest  about  half  a  mile  broad,  through  which 
their  road  lay.  Here  the  smoke  was  becoming 
dense,  but  the  children,  not  expecting  that  the 
flames  could  reach  so  far,  entered  the  wood  without 
fear.  They  had  not  gone  a  hundred  yards  when  the 
heat  became  unbearable;  and,  borne  down  by  the 
westerly  breeze,  a  roaring  sound,  like  the  rushing  of 
mighty  waters,  fell  upon  their  ears.  Soon  the  hiss- 
ing and  crackling  of  the  flames  told  them  that  the 
fire  was  fast  sweeping  toward  them. 

"  Back  —  back  to  the  clearing !  We  can't  get 
through ! "  cried  Mabel,  turning  to  run. 

Then,  stopping  as  suddenly  as  she  had  started 
off,  she  exclaimed :  "  Oh,  those  poor  children,  Ger- 
trude and  Crissy  Moore !  I  met  their  mother  this 
morning,  and  she  told  me  that  she  and  Mr.  Moore 
would  be  away  from  home  all  day,  and  that  the  chil- 
dren would  be  alone.  The  house  is  two  miles  from 
here,  and  close  to  the  woods.  The  fire  will  soon 
reach  the  house,  and  the  poor  little  girls  will  be 
burned  to  death! 

11  Come,  boys,  come !  We  must  outrun  the  fire 
and  get  there  in  time  to  save  them.  Let  us  make 
a  race  for  it!"  And  the  three  set  off  along  the 
fields  by  the  edge  of  the  forest. 

They  started  at  full  speed,  and  soon  found  that 


124  BOOK   FIVE 

they  were  outstripping  the  flames.  But  great  bil- 
lows of  smoke  were  rolling  all  around  them,  and 
before  they  had  gone  three-quarters  of  a  mile  the 
two  boys  sank  to  the  ground,  overcome  by  the  heat, 
and  almost  stifled  by  the  smoke. 

What  was  to  be  done?  Mabel  could  not  leave 
them  there  in  the  path  of  the  fire;  and  yet  she 
dared  not  delay.  Looking  around  in  dismay  and 
terror,  her  eyes  fell  on  a  well-known  landmark  —  a 
small,  placid  lake. 

"  Come,  boys,"  she  cried ;  "  try  again.  Our  lives 
and  the  lives  of  the  Moore  children  depend  upon 
our  not  giving  way.  The  lake  is  just  beyond  us 
there.  Hold  tight  to  me,  and  I'll  take  you  to  it." 
And,  half  dragging  the  nearly  unconscious  lads,  she 
brought  them  at  last  to  the  water's  edge. 

All  three  threw  themselves  down  and  drank  as 
thoy  had  never  drunk  before.  Then  the  boys  de- 
clared they  were  ready  to  go  on.  But  Mabel  said, 
M  No,  lie  down  on  the  ground.  The  smoke  will  not 
reach  you  there;  and  if  the  fire  creeps  across  the 
field,  wade  out  into  the  lake,  where  you  will  be 
quite  safe  till  I  can  come  back  for  you." 

The  boys  lay  down  as  she  bade  them,  and  then 
the  heroic  girl  pushed  on  alone.  Through  the  delay 
the  fire  had  gained  on  her,  and  as  she  raced  on  in 
front  of  the  roaring  flames,  she   had    to  halt  and 


A   TALE  OF   A   FOREST   FIRE  125 

stoop  low  to  the  earth  to  get  a  breath  of  pure 
air. 

At  last,  breathless  with  running,  Mabel  reached 
Mr.  Moore's  farm.  The  two  little  children  were 
clinging  to  each  other,  screaming  for  help.  No  time 
was  to  be  lost.  The  awful  sea  of  fire  was  already 
bursting  through  the  trees!  Gently  laying  the 
children  face  down  upon  the  ground,  Mabel  dipped 
her  light  woollen  shawl  in  a  pail  of  water,  drew  it 
over  her  head,  and  ran  swiftly  to  the  well  at  the 
back  of  the  house. 

Over  the  well  was  an  old-fashioned  windlass, 
around  the  drum  of  which  was  a  rope  attached  to  a 
great  bucket.  The  ready-witted  girl  lowered  the 
bucket  rapidly  to  the  bottom,  and,  drawing  it  up 
again  empty,  found  that  the  water  must  be  less  than 
two  feet  deep. 

The  air  was  now  so  hot,  that  in  order  to  breathe, 
she  had  to  draw  a  fold  of  the  wet  shawl  over  her 
mouth  and  nose.  While  doing  this  she  noticed  a 
pile  of  fire-wood  standing  in  the  yard.  Hurrying 
to  it,  she  brought  back  an  armful  of  blocks,  which 
she  threw  into  the  well.  This  action  she  repeated, 
until,  letting  down  the  bucket  again,  she  found  that 
the  blocks  of  wood  stood  above  the  level  of  the 
water. 

Running  back  to  the  house,  she  tore  the  blankets 


126  BOOK   FIVE 

from  the  beds,  snatched  little  Crissy  up  in  her  arms, 
and  bidding  Gertie  hold  on  to  her  frock,  hurried 
again  to  the  well.  To  drop  the  blankets  to  the 
bottom,  place  the  children,  one  at  a  time,  in  the 
bucket  and  lower  them  down,  was  the  work  of  a  few 
moments.  Then  letting  the  bucket  remain  below, 
she  grasped  the  rope,  slid  down  hand  over  hand, 
and  joined  the  terrified  children  in  their  strange 
place  of  refuge. 

The  descent  was  not  made  a  moment  too  soon. 
The  flames  were  already  rushing  over  the  dry 
grass  and  stubble.  In  another  minute  the  rest  of 
the  woodpile  was  ablaze,  and  a  sheet  of  flame 
swept  over  the  well.  The  rope,  catching  fire  at  the 
top,  quickly  burnt  through,  and  fell  plump  upon 
the  heads  of  the  children. 

For  hours  they  cowered  in  terror,  watching  the 
whirling  smoke,  and  listening  to  the  roaring  flames 
above.  By  and  by  the  noise  grew  less,  the  smoke 
cleared;  and,  quite  worn  out,  Mabel  and  her  little 
charges  fell  asleep. 

At  last  Mabel  was  awakened  by  Crissy 's  plaintive 
cry,  M  I  want  my  breakfast !  "  and  found  that  the  sun 
had  risen  upon  another  day.  It  was  impossible  to 
get  out  of  the  well.  Mabel,  though  her  heart  was 
full  of  fear,  did  her  best  to  comfort  the  little  ones, 
hoping  that  at  last  some  one  would  rescue  them. 


A   TALE   OF   A   FOREST    FIRE  127 

Several  hours  passed  away.  The  sun  had  risen 
high  in  the  heavens,  when  at  last  hurried  foot- 
steps were  heard  approaching.  The  anxious  mother 
had  reached  her  home,  to  find  nothing  but  charred 
and  glowing  embers.  A  cry  of  despair  broke  from 
her  when  she  could  find  no  trace  of  her  children. 

But  what  is  that?  Her  cry  is  answered  by  a 
faint  shout !  She  stands  eagerly  listening.  Again 
the  shout  is  repeated  —  it  sounds  like  a  voice  from 
the  ground.  A  sudden  thought  strikes  her.  She 
rushes  to  the  well,  leans  over  the  charred  curb,  and 
from  the  depths  the  cheering  words  reach  her  ears : 
"  It's  I,  Mabel  Howard.  Gertrude  and  Crissy  are 
with  me." 

Kneeling  down  by  the  brink,  and  peering  into 
the  darkness,  Mrs.  Moore  caught  a  faint  glimpse  of 
the  children,  and  uttered  a  glad  cry  of  thankfulness. 
Then,  opening  a  little  parcel  of  cloth  she  had 
bought  in  the  town,  she  tore  the  cloth  into  strips, 
and  tied  a  number  of  them  together.  Fastening  a 
stone  to  one  end  of  the  line  she  lowered  it  to  Mabel, 
who  quickly  tied  the  rope  to  it.  Then  Mrs.  Moore 
drew  up  the  rope  and  fastened  it  to  the  windlass. 

"Send  the  baby  up  first!"  she  cried  joyfully.  In 
a  few  moments  the  delighted  little  one  appeared  in 
the  bucket  at  the  mouth  of  the  well,  and  was  clasped 
in  her  mother's  arms.     Gertrude  came  next,   and 


128 


BOOK    FIVE 


then  Mrs.  Moore  exclaimed :  "  What  shall  we  do 
now,  Mabel  ?  You  are  such  a  heavy  lump  of  good- 
ness that  I'm  afraid  I  can't  wind  you  up." 

"Never  mind  me,"  laughed  Mabel,  cheerily. 
"  Just  lower  the  bucket  again  and  let  me  send  up 
the  blankets,  and  then  I  will  make  my  own  way 
out." 

Up  came  the  blankets ;  the  bucket  made  another 
descent,  and  Mabel,  grasping  the  rope  with  both 
hands,  and  leaning  far  back,  planted  her  feet  firmly 
against  the  rough  wall,  and  walked  up  to  daylight 
as  cleverly  as  any  boy  could  have  done. 

Imagine  the  words  of  heartfelt  thankfulness  with 
which  she  was  greeted  by  the  fond  mother.  Imag- 
ine, too,  Mabel's  joy  when,  on  reaching  home,  she 
found  that  the  little  Lennox  boys  whom  she  had 
left  at  the  lake  had  also  escaped  unhurt.  Mr. 
Moore's  house  was  soon  rebuilt,  and  in  his  best 
room  hangs  the  portrait  of  the  brave  girl  to  whose 
courage  and  quick  wit  he  owed  the  safety  of  his 
children,  the  sunshine  of  his  home. 


ad  join'ing,  touching  each  other. 

trudge,  to  walk  or  march  wearily. 

de  lay',  to  stop  for  a  time;  to  put  off. 

dismay',  fear:  alarm. 

plac'id,  calm. 

un  con'scious,  fallen  into  a  faint;  not 

knowing, 
he  ro'ic,  brave. 


wind'lass,  the  part  of  the  well  which 

draws  up  the  bucket, 
drum,  the  round  part  of  the  windlass, 

about  which  the  rope  winds, 
cow'er,  to  sink  in  fear, 
plain'tive,  sad;  complaining, 
em'bers,  the  hot  remains  of  a  fire. 
des  pair',  loss  of  hope. 


THE   FIRST   SNOWFALL  129 

THE    FIRST   SNOWFALL. 

JAMES   RUSSELL  LOWELL. 

The  snow  had  begun  in  the  gloaming, 

And  busily  all  the  night 
Had  been  heaping  field  and  highway 

With  a  silence  deep  and  white. 

Every  pine  and  fir  and  hemlock 
Wore  ermine  too  dear  for  an  earl, 

And  the  poorest  twig  on  the  elm  tree 
Was  ridged  inch  deep  with  pearl. 

From  sheds  new-roofed  with  Carrara 
Came  Chanticleer's  mufBed  crow, 

The  stiff  rails  were  softened  to  swan's-down, 
And  still  fluttered  down  the  snow. 

I  stood  and  watched  by  the  window 

The  noiseless  work  of  the  sky, 
And  the  sudden  flurries  of  snowbirds, 

Like  brown  leaves  whirling  by. 

I  thought  of  a  mound  in  sweet  Auburn 

Where  a  little  headstone  stood ; 
How  the  flakes  were  folding  it  gently, 

As  did  robins  the  babes  in  the  wood. 

Up  spoke  our  own  little  Mabel, 

Saying,  "  Father,  who  makes  it  snow  ?  " 


13° 


BOOK    FIVE 


And  I  told  of  the  good  All- Father 
Who  cares  for  us  here  below. 

Again  I  looked  at  the  snowfall, 
And  thought  of  the  leaden  sky 

That  arched  o'er  our  first  great  sorrow, 
When  that  mound  was  heaped  so  high. 

I  remembered  the  gradual  patience 
That  fell  from  that  cloud  like  snow, 

Flake  by  flake,  healing  and  hiding 
The  scar  of  our  deep-plunged  woe. 

And  again  to  the  child  I  whispered, 

"  The  snow  that  husheth  all, 
Darling,  the  merciful  Father 

Alone  can  make  it  fall ! " 

Then,  with  eyes  that  saw  not,  I  kissed  her; 

And  she,  kissing  back,  could  not  know 
That  my  kiss  was  given  to  her  sister, 

Folded  close  under  deepening  snow. 


gloam'ing,  twilight ;  dusk. 
er'mine,  the  fur  of  a  small  white  ani- 
mal with  a  black  tail. 


sweet  Au'burn,  a  cemetery. 
Car  ra'ra,  a  town  in  Italy  where  the 
whitest  marble  is  found. 


James  Russell  Lowell  (1819-1891)  was  a  friend  of  Long- 
fellow, Emerson,  Holmes,  and  Whittier.  As  a  poet  he  ranks 
with  them.  He  is  also  famous  as  one  of  the  greater  American 
critics.  Like  Longfellow  and  Holmes,  he  was  for  many  years  a 
professor  in  Harvard  University. 


THE   FIRST   SNOWFALL 


132  BOOK   FIVE 

A  LIVELY  SLED-RIDE.1 

FRANK  R.  STOCKTON. 

One  Thursday  night,  about  the  middle  of  Janu- 
ary, there  was  a  fall  of  snow,  deep  enough  for 
sledding.  The  next  morning  Harry  Loudon,  in 
connection  with  Tom  Selden,  a  boy  several  years 
older  than  himself,  concocted  a  grand  scheme. 

They  would  haul  wood  on  a  sled,  all  day  Satur- 
day. Harry's  father  gave  his  consent  to  the  plan, 
and  loaned  his  sled,  which  was,  as  to  size,  quite 
an  imposing  affair.  •  It  was  about  eight  feet 
long  and  four  feet  wide,  and  was  made  of  heavy 
boards,  nailed  transversely  upon  a  couple  of  solid 
runners,  with  upright  poles  to  keep  the  load  in 
its  place. 

Old  Mr.  Truly  Matthews  had  had  a  large  pile  of 
wood  cut  in  a  forest  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from 
the  village,  and  the  boys  knew  that  he  wanted  it 
hauled  to  the  house,  and  that  by  a  good  day's  work 
considerable  money  could  be  made. 

Three  negro  men  agreed  to  help  for  one  fourth 
of  the  profits.  Tom  Selden  went  into  the  affair, 
heart  and  hand,  agreeing  to  take  out  his  share  in 

1  Copyright,  1875.    By  permission  of  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 


A   LIVELY   SLED-RIDE  133 

fun.  The  only  difficulty  was  to  procure  a  team; 
and  nothing  less  than  a  four-horse  team  would 
satisfy  the  boys. 

Mr.  Loudon  lent  them  one  horse,  old  Selim,  —  a 
big  brown  fellow,  —  that  was  very  good  at  pulling 
when  he  felt  in  the  humor.  Tom  could  bring  no 
horse;  for  his  father  did  not  care  to  lend  his  horses 
for  such  a  purpose.  He  was  afraid  they  might  get 
their  legs  broken ;  and,  strange  as  it  seemed  to  the 
boys,  most  of  the  neighbors  appeared  to  have  similar 
opinions. 

Horses  were  very  hard  to  borrow  that  Friday 
afternoon.  But  a  negro  man,  named  Isaac  Waddell, 
agreed  to  let  his  thin  horse,  Hector,  for  fifty  cents 
for  the  day ;  and  the  storekeeper,  after  much  persua- 
sion, lent  a  big  gray  mule,  Grits  by  name. 

There  was  another  mule  in  the  village  which  the 
boys  could  have ;  but  they  did  not  want  her,  that  is, 
if  they  could  get  anything  else  with  four  legs  that 
would  do  to  go  in  their  team.  This  was  Polly,  a 
little  mule  belonging  to  Mrs.  Dabney,  who  kept  the 
post-office. 

Now  Polly  did  not  particularly  object  to  a  walk, 
if  it  were  not  too  long,  but  she  seldom  indulged  in 
trotting.  It  was  of  no  use  to  whip  her,  Her  skin 
was  so  thick,  or  so  destitute  of  feeling  that  she  took 
no  notice  of  the  hardest  crack.     Perhaps  the  best 


134  BOOK   FIVE 

thing  that  could  be  said  of  her  was  that  she  did  not 
take  up  much  room. 

But  on  Saturday,  it  was  evident  that  Polly  would 
have  to  be  taken,  for  no  animal  could  be  obtained  in 
her  place.  So,  soon  after  breakfast,  the  team  was 
collected  in  Mr.  Loudon's  back  yard,  and  harnessed 
to  the  sled. 

Beside  the  three  negroes  who  had  been  hired, 
there  were  seven  volunteers  —  some  big,  and  some 
little  —  who  were  very  willing  to  work  for  nothing, 
if  they  might  have  a  ride  on  the  sled.  The  harness 
was  not  the  best  in  the  world ;  some  of  it  was  leather, 
and  some  was  rope,  and  some  was  chain.  It  was 
gathered  from  various  quarters,  like  the  team,  for 
nobody  seemed  desirous  to  lend  good  harness. 

Grits  and  thin  Hector  were  the  leaders,  and  Polly 
and  old  Selim  were  the  pole-horses,  so  to  speak. 
When  all  the  straps  were  buckled,  and  the  chains 
hooked,  and  the  knots  tied,  —  and  this  took  a  long 
time,  as  there  were  only  twelve  men  and  boys  to  do 
it,  —  Dick  Ford  jumped  on  old  Selim,  little  Johnny 
Sand,  as  black  as  ink,  was  hoisted  on  Grits,  and 
Gregory  Montague,  a  tall  yellow  boy,  in  high  boots 
with  no  toes  to  them,  bestrode  thin  Hector. 

Harry,  Tom,  and  nine  negroes  —  two  more  had 
just  come  into  the  yard  — jumped  on  the  sled.  Dick 
Ford  cracked  his  whip;  Kate,  Harry's  sister,  stood 


A    LIVELY   SLED-RIDE  135 

on  the  back  doorstep  and  clapped  her  hands;  all 
the  darkies  shouted;  Tom  and  Harry  hurrahed; 
and  away  they  —  didn't  go. 

Polly  wasn't  ready.  And  what  was  more,  old 
brown  Selim  was  perfectly  willing  to  wait  for  her. 
He  looked  around  mildly  at  the  little  mule,  as  if  he 
would  say,  "  Now,  don't  be  in  a  hurry,  my  good 
Polly.     Be  sure  you're  right  before  you  go  ahead." 

Polly  was  quite  sure  she  was  not  right,  and  stood 
as  stiffly  as  if  she  had  been  frozen  to  the  ground. 
All  the  cracking  of  whips  and  the  shouting  of 
"  Git  up !  "  "  Go  'long !  "  "  What  you  mean  dar,  you, 
Polly !  "  made  no  impression  on  her. 

"Never  mind  Polly!"  shouted  Harry;  "Let  her 
alone.  Dick,  and  you  other  fellows,  just  start  off 
your  own  horses.  Now  then !  Get  up,  all  of 
you!" 

At  this,  every  rider  whipped  up  his  horse  or  his 
mule,  and  spurred  him  with  his  heels,  and  every 
darkey  shouted,  "  Hi  dar ! "  and  off  they  went,  rat- 
tledy  bang ! 

Polly  went  too.  There  never  was  so  astonished 
a  little  mule  in  this  world !  Out  of  the  gate  they 
all  whirled  at  a  full  gallop,  and  up  the  road,  tearing 
along !  —  negroes  shouting,  chains  rattling,  snow  fly- 
ing back  from  sixteen  pounding  hoofs,  sled  cutting 
through  the  snow  like  a  ship  at  sea,  and  a  little 


136  BOOK   FIVE 

darkey  shooting  out  behind  at  every  bounce  over 
a  rough  place ! 

"Hurrah!"  cried  Harry,  holding  tight  to  an  up- 
right pole,  "  Isn't  this  splendid  !  " 

"  Splendid  !  It's  glorious  !  "  shouted  Tom.  "  It's 
better  than  being  a  pi  — ."  And  down  he  went  on 
his  knees,  as  the  big  sled  banged  over  a  stone  in 
the  road. 

Whether  Tom  intended  to  say  a  pirate  or  a  piper, 
was  never  discovered.  Very  soon,  there  was  only 
one  of  the  negro  boys  left  on  the  sled.  This  boy, 
John  William  Webster,  clung  to  a  pole  as  if  he  had 
been  glued  there. 

As  for  Polly,  she  was  carried  along  faster  than 
she  ever  went  before.  She  jumped,  she  skipped, 
she  galloped,  she  slid,  she  skated ;  sometimes  sit- 
ting down  and  sometimes  on  her  feet,  but  flying 
along  all  the  same,  no  matter  how  she  chose  to  go. 

And  so,  rattling,  shouting,  banging,  bouncing, 
snow  flying  and  whip  cracking,  on  they  went,  until 
John  William  Webster's  pole  came  out,  and  clip ! 
he  went  off  into  the  snow.  But  John  William  did 
not  mind  tumbles.  In  an  instant,  he  jerked  himself 
up  to  his  feet,  dropped  the  pole,  and  dashed  after 
the  sled. 

Swiftly  on  went  the  sled,  and  just  behind  came 
John    William,  his    legs   working   like    steamboat 


A   LIVELY   SLED-RIDE  137 

wheels,  his  white  teeth  shining,  and  his  big  eyes 
sparkling. 

In  less  than  two  minutes,  he  reached  the  sled, 
seized  a  man  by  the  leg,  and  tugged  and  pulled 
until  he  seated  himself  on  the  end  board.  "  I  tole 
yer  so !  "  said  he,  when  he  got  his  breath.  And  yet 
he  hadn't  told  anybody  anything. 

And  now  the  woods  were  reached,  and  after 
much  pulling  and  shouting,  the  team  was  brought 
to  a  halt,  and  then  slowly  led  through  a  short  road 
to  where  the  wood  was  piled.  The  big  mule  and 
the  horses  steamed  and  puffed  a  little,  but  Polly 
stood  as  calm  as  a  rocking-horse. 


con  coct'ed,  made  up. 
scheme,  plan. 
per  sua'sion,  coaxing. 
trans  verse'ly,  crosswise. 


vol  un  teer',  one  who  offers  his  help, 
con sid'er a ble,    a    good    deal    of; 

worthy  of  regard, 
des'ti  tute,  lacking. 


Francis  Richard  Stockton  was  born  in  Philadelphia  in  1834 
and  died  in  1902.  He  was  at  one  time  assistant  editor  of  the 
"  St.  Nicholas "  magazine.  Among  his  many  books  for  young 
people  are  "  Tales  out  of  School,"  and  "  What  Might  Have  Been 
Expected."  His  genial  humor  appears  at  its  best  in  "Rudder 
Grange,"  his  most  popular  story. 


No  man  is  born  into  the  world  whose  work 
Is  not  born  with  him ;  there  is  always  work, 
And  tools  to  work  withal,  for  those  who  will ; 
And  blessed  are  the  horny  hands  of  toil.  —  Lowell. 


138  BOOK   FIVE 

THE   STORY   OF   ALI   COGIA,   A   MER- 
CHANT  OF   BAGDAD. 

I. 

There  lived  at  Bagdad  a  merchant  whose  name 
was  Ali  Cogia.  He  was  neither  rich  nor  poor,  but 
lived  in  comfort  in  the  house  that  had  been  his 
father's.  For  three  nights,  one  after  another,  he  had 
a  strange  dream,  which  gave  cause  to  the  events  of 
this  story.  An  old  man  appeared  to  him,  and  with 
a  severe  look  reproached  him  for  not  having  made 
a  pilgrimage  to  Mecca.  The  vision,  seen  three 
times,  gave  him  much  trouble. 

The  dream  pricked  his  conscience  so  sorely  that 
he  made  up  his  mind  to  go.  Therefore  he  let  his 
house,  and  sold  all  of  his  goods  except  a  few  which 
he  thought  he  could  turn  to  better  profit  at  Mecca. 
After  this  was  done,  he  had  a  thousand  pieces  of 
gold  which  he  wanted  to  leave  behind  him  in  some 
place  of  safety. 

This  was  the  plan  which,  upon  careful  thought, 
he  adopted :  he  took  a  large  jar  and  put  the  thou- 
sand pieces  of  gold  into  it,  and  covered  them  over 
with  olives.  When  he  had  closed  the  mouth  of  the 
jar  he  carried  it  to  a  merchant,  one  of  his  best  friends, 
and  said  to  him  :  — 

"  You  know,  brother,  that  in  a  few  days  I  mean  to 


THE   STORY   OF   ALI    COGIA  139 

depart  with  the  caravan  on  my  pilgrimage  to  Mecca. 
I  beg  the  favor  of  you  to  take  charge  of  a  jar  of 
olives,  and  keep  it  for  me  till  I  return." 

The  merchant  promised  to  do  this,  and  in  the 
kindest  manner  said,  "  Here,  take  the  key  of  my 
warehouse,  and  set  your  jar  where  you  please.  You 
shall  find  it  there  when  you  return." 

When  the  caravan  started,  Ali  Cogia,  riding  a 
camel  loaded  with  the  goods  he  thought  fit  to  carry, 
started  with  it.  He  arrived  safe  at  Mecca,  per- 
formed all  his  religious  duties  at  the  temple,  and 
then  exposed  his  goods  for  sale.  Two  merchants 
soon  came  by.  They  purchased  nothing,  but  as 
they  walked  away  Ali  Cogia  heard  one  of  them  say 
to  the  other:  — 

"  If  this  merchant  knew  what  profit  these  goods 
would  bring  him  at  Cairo,  he  would  carry  them 
thither  and  not  sell  them  here,  though  this  is  a  good 
mart." 

Ali  Cogia  had  often  heard  of  the  beauties  of 
Egypt,  and  decided  to  go  to  Cairo.  This  he  did, 
and,  with  the  profits  from  his  sales,  went  to  Damas- 
cus. Having  once  begun  to  travel  it  was  an  easy 
matter  to  keep  on,  and  for  seven  years  he  went  from 
place  to  place,  even  as  far  as  Hindostan.  Then  he 
resolved  to  return  to  Bagdad. 

All  this  time  his  friend,  with  whom  he  had  left 


i.40  BOOK   FIVE 

the  jar  of  olives,  never  thought  of  him  or  of  them. 
One  evening  the  merchant  was  supping  with  his 
family  when  the  talk  happened  to  fall  upon  olives. 
His  wife,  wishing  to  eat  some,  said  she  had  not 
tasted  any  for  a  long  while. 

"  Now  you  speak  of  olives,"  said  the  merchant, 
"  you  put  me  in  mind  of  a  jar  which  AH  Cogia  left 
with  me  seven  years  ago,  when  he  went  to  Mecca, 
putting  it  himself  into  my  warehouse.  What  is 
become  of  him  I  know  not.  When  the  caravan 
came  back,  they  told  me  he  was  gone  to  Egypt. 
Certainly  he  must  be  dead  by  this  time,  and  we  may 
eat  the  olives  if  they  prove  good.  Give  me  a  plate 
and  a  candle ;  I  will  go  and  fetch  some  and  we  will 
taste  them." 

"  Pray,  husband,"  said  his  wife,  "  do  not  commit 
so  base  a  deed.  They  were  given  to  you  in  trust, 
and  if  Ali  Cogia  should  return,  as  I  am  sure  he  will, 
what  will  he  think  of  your  honor?  Besides,  the 
olives  must  be  mouldy  after  these  seven  years.  I 
beg  you  to  let  them  alone." 

But  the  merchant  would  not  listen.  When  he 
came  to  the  warehouse  and  opened  the  jar,  he  found 
the  olives  mouldy.  But,  to  see  if  all  were  mouldy 
to  the  bottom,  he  turned  some  of  them  upon  the 
plate,  and  in  shaking  the  jar  some  of  the  gold 
tumbled  out. 


THE   STORY   OF   ALI    COGIA  141 

Now  the  merchant  loved  gold  dearly,  and,  looking 
deeper  into  the  jar,  he  saw  that  only  the  top  had 
been  covered  with  olives,  and  that  all  below  it  was 
coin.  He  put  the  olives  directly  back,  covered  the 
jar,  and  returned  to  his  wife. 

"  Indeed,  wife,"  said  he,  "  you  were  right,  the 
olives  are  all  mouldy.  But  I  have  left  them  just 
as  I  found  them,  and  if  Ali  Cogia  ever  does  return 
he  will  see  that  they  have  not  been  touched." 

"  I  wish  that  you  had  not  meddled  with  them  at 
all,"  said  his  wife.  "  God  grant  that  no  mischief  may 
come  of  it" 

The  merchant  spent  most  of  that  night  thinking 
how  he  might  take  Ali  Cogia's  gold  without  any 
risk  of  being  found  out.  The  next  morning  he 
went  and  bought  some  olives  of  that  year,  took  out 
the  old  olives  with  the  gold,  filled  the  jar  with  the 
new,  covered  it  up,  and  put  it  in  the  place  where 
Ali  Cogia  left  it. 

In  about  a  month  the  traveller  arrived  at  Bagdad. 
One  of  the  first  things  he  did  there  was  to  go  to  the 
merchant  for  his  jar  of  olives,  saying  he  hoped  it  had 
not  been  in  the  way. 

"My  dear  friend,"  said  the  merchant,  "your  jar 
has  been  no  trouble  to  me.  There  is  the  key  to 
my  warehouse ;  go  and  fetch  your  jar.  You  will 
find  it  where  you  left  it" 


H2  BOOK   FIVE 

When  Ali  Cogia  carried  the  jar  to  his  inn  and 
turned  it  over,  nothing  but  olives  rolled  out  of  it. 
He  knew  not  what  to  think.  For  some  time  he 
neither  spoke  nor  moved.  Then,  lifting  up  his 
hands  and  eyes  to  heaven,  he  exclaimed :  "  Is  it 
possible  that  a  man  whom  I  took  for  my  friend 
could  be  guilty  of  such  baseness  ? " 

Ali  Cogia  returned  at  once  to  the  merchant. 

"  My  good  friend,"  said  he,  "  be  not  surprised  to 
see  me  come  back  again  so  soon.  I  own  the  jar  of 
olives  to  be  the  one  which  I  put  into  your  ware- 
house. But  with  the  olives  I  put  into  it  a  thousand 
pieces  of  gold,  which  I  do  not  find.  If  you  had  need 
of  them,  and  have  used  them  in  trade,  they  are  at 
your  service  till  you  wish  to  pay  them  back.  Only 
give  me  a  written  word  to  say  that  you  will  do  so." 

The  merchant,  who  expected  that  Ali  Cogia 
would  come  with  this  story,  was  ready  with  an 
angry  answer :  "  You  left  a  jar,  found  it  in  its 
place,  and  took  it  away.  Now  you  come  and  ask 
me  for  a  thousand  pieces  of  gold.  I  wonder  that 
you  do  not  demand  diamonds  or  pearls.  Begone 
about  your  business. ' 

The  noise  of  their  quarrel  drew  other  merchants 
to  the  spot.  Ali  Cogia,  seeing  that  he  gained  noth- 
ing by  talk,  left  his  unfaithful  friend.  But  he  warned 
him  that  he  must  appear  for  trial  before  the  judge, 


THE   STORY   OF   ALI   COGIA  143 

an  officer  of  the  law  whose  summons  must  be 
obeyed  by  every  good  Mussulman. 

"With  all  my  heart,"  said  the  merchant;  "we 
shall  soon  see  who  is  in  the  wrong." 

AH  Cogia  carried  the  merchant  before  the  judge, 
where  he  accused  him  of  stealing  a  thousand  pieces 
of  gold.  The  judge  asked  if  he  had  any  witnesses. 
Ali  replied  that  he  had  none  because  he  had  be- 
lieved the  person  whom  he  had  trusted  with  his 
money  to  be  his  friend,  and  always  took  him  for 
an  honest  man.  Finding  that  there  were  no  wit- 
nesses, the  judge  dismissed  the  prisoner  for  want 
of  evidence. 


II. 


Ali  Cogia  would  not  let  the  matter  drop  so  easily. 
He  lost  no  time  in  drawing  up  a  petition  to  the 
Caliph  that  he  should  try  the  merchant  himself. 
He  received  an  answer  that  the  trial  would  take 
place  on  the  next  day. 

That  same  evening  the  Caliph  and  his  Grand 
Vizier  went  disguised  through  the  town,  as  he 
often  did.  Hearing  a  noise  as  he  passed  the 
entrance  to  a  little  court,  he  looked  in  and  saw 
ten  or  twelve  boys  at  play  in  the  moonlight.  Curi- 
ous to  know  what  they  were  doing,  he  sat  down  on 


144  BOOK   FIVE 

a  stone  bench  near  by.  Soon  he  heard  one  of  the 
boys  say,  "  Let  us  play  at  judge  and  court." 

The  affair  of  Ali  Cogia  and  the  merchant  had 
made  a  great  noise  in  Bagdad,  and  the  boys  took 
to  the  game  with  eagerness.  The  boy  who  pro- 
posed the  game  was  to  be  the  judge,  and  he  took 
his  seat  with  much  gravity.  Then  another,  as  the 
officer  of  the  court,  presented  two  boys  before  him 
—  one  as  Ali  Cogia,  and  the  other  as  the  accused 
merchant. 

The  pretended  judge  then  asked  the  pretended 
Ali  Cogia  what  charge  he  had  to  bring  against  the 
merchant.  After  making  a  low  bow,  he  told  his 
story,  and  begged  the  judge  to  save  him  the  loss  of 
so  much  money.  Then  the  pretended  merchant 
was  called,  and  made  the  same  defence  that  the  real 
merchant  had  made  before  the  real  judge.  When 
he  finished  he  offered  to  take  his  oath  that  all  he 
had  said  was  true. 

"  Not  so  fast,"  replied  the  boy  judge  ;  "  before  you 
come  to  your  oath,  I  should  be  glad  to  see  the  jar  of 
olives.  Ali  Cogia,"  said  he  to  the  boy  who  acted 
Ali's  part,  "  Have  you  brought  the  jar?  " 

"  No,"  replied  he. 

"  Then  go  and  fetch  it  at  once,"  said  the  other. 

The  pretended  Ali  Cogia  went  and  soon  returned 
with  the  jar,  which  he  declared  to  be  the  one  he  had 


THE   STORY   OF   ALI   COGIA  '145 

left  with  the  merchant,  and  the  merchant  was  called 
upon  to  say  that  it  was  the  same.  When  the  cover 
was  taken  off,  the  boy  who  was  playing  judge  said :  — 

"  They  are  fine  olives ;  let  me  taste  them."  Then 
pretending  to  eat  some,  he  added :  "  They  are 
excellent,  but  I  cannot  think  that  olives  will  keep 
for  seven  years  and  be  so  good ;  therefore,  send  for 
some  olive  merchants  and  let  me  hear  what  is  their 
opinion." 

Two  boys,  as  olive  merchants,  then  appeared. 

"  Are  you  olive  merchants  ?  "  said  the  boy  judge. 
"Tell  me  how  long  olives  will  keep  fit  to  eat." 

"Sir,"  replied  the  two  merchants,  "let  us  take 
what  care  we  may,  they  will  hardly  be  worth  any- 
thing the  third  year;  for  then  they  have  neither 
taste  nor  color." 

"  If  that  be  so,"  answered  the  judge,  "  look  into 
that  jar  and  tell  me  how  long  it  is  since  those  olives 
were  put  into  it." 

The  two  merchants  pretended  to  examine  and 
taste  the  olives,  and  told  the  judge  they  were  new 
and  good. 

"You  are  wrong,"  said  the  young  judge.  "Ali 
Cogia  says  he  put  them  into  the  jar  seven  years 
ago." 

"  Sir,"  replied  the  merchants,  "  we  can  assure  you 
they  are  of  this  year's  growth,  and  we  will  maintain 


i46  BOOK   FIVE 

that  there  is  not  a  merchant  in  Bagdad  who  will  not 
say  the  same." 

The  pretended  merchant  would  have  objected  to 
this  evidence,  but  the  young  judge  would  not  hear 
him. 

"  Hold  your  tongue,"  said  he,  "  you  are  a  rogue. 
Let  him  be  hanged." 

The  boys  ended  their  play,  clapping  their  hands 
with  great  joy,  and  leading  the  feigned  criminal 
away  to  prison. 

Words  cannot  express  how  much  the  Caliph 
admired  the  cleverness  and  sense  of  the  boy  who 
had  passed  so  just  a  sentence  in  an  affair  which  was 
to  be  pleaded  before  himself  the  next  day. 

"  Take  notice  of  this  house,"  he  said  to  the  Grand 
Vizier,  "  and  bring  the  boy  to  me  to-morrow,  that  he 
may  try  this  cause  in  my  presence.  Also  order  the 
judge  who  acquitted  the  merchant  to  attend  and 
learn  his  duty  from  a  child.  Take  care,  likewise,  to 
bid  AH  Cogia  bring  his  jar  of  olives  with  him,  and 
let  two  olive  merchants  be  present." 

The  next  day  the  Vizier  went  to  the  house  where 
the  Caliph  had  seen  the  boys  at  play,  and  asked  for 
the  master.  But  as  he  was  away  from  home,  his 
wife  appeared,  thickly  veiled.  The  Vizier  asked  if 
she  had  any  children.  She  answered  that  she  had 
three,  and  called  them.     The  eldest  declared  himself 


THE   STORY   OF   ALI    COGIA  147 

to  be  the  one  who  had  played  the  judge  the  night 
before. 

"  Then,  my  lad,"  said  the  Vizier,  u  come  with  me ; 
the  Commander  of  the  Faithful  wants  you." 

The  mother  was  alarmed,  and  asked  on  what 
account  the  Caliph  wanted  him.  The  Grand  Vizier 
encouraged  her,  and  promised  that  her  son  should 
return  in  less  than  an  hour.  But  before  she  let  him 
go,  she  dressed  him  as  she  thought  he  should  be 
dressed  to  appear  before  the  Caliph. 

When  the  Vizier  and  the  boy  reached  the  court, 
the  Caliph  saw  that  the  lad  was  much  abashed,  and, 
to  set  him  at  his  ease,  said :  "  Come  to  me,  child,  and 
tell  me  if  it  was  you  that  judged  between  Ali  Cogia 
and  the  merchant.  I  heard  the  trial,  and  am  very 
well  pleased  with  you." 

The  boy  answered  modestly  that  it  was  he. 

"  Well,  my  son,"  replied  the  Caliph,  "  come  and  sit 
down  by  me,  and  you  shall  see  the  true  Ali  Cogia 
and  the  true  merchant." 

The  Caliph  then  took  him  by  the  hand  and  seated 
him  on  the  throne  by  his  side,  and  asked  for  the  two 
merchants.  When  they  had  come  forward  and 
bowed  their  heads  to  the  carpet,  he  said  to  them, 
"  Each  of  you  may  plead  your  cause  before  this  child, 
who  will  hear  and  do  you  justice;  and  if  he  should 
be  at  a  loss,  I  will  assist  him." 


148  BOOK    FIVE 

Ali  Cogia  and  the  merchant  pleaded  one  after  the 
other.  But  when  the  merchant  offered  to  take  his 
oath,  as  before,  the  child  said,  "  It  is  too  soon ;  it  is 
proper  that  we  should  see  the  jar  of  olives." 

At  these  words,  Ali  Cogia  presented  the  jar,  placed 
it  at  the  Caliph's  feet,  and  opened  it.  The  Caliph 
looked  at  the  olives,  took  one,  and  tasted  it,  giving 
another  to  the  boy.  Then  the  merchants  were 
called  and  reported  the  olives  good,  and  of  that  year. 
The  boy  told  them  that  Ali  Cogia  declared  it  was 
seven  years  since  he  had  put  them  up.  They  made 
the  same  answer  as  the  children  who  had  acted  their 
parts  the  night  before. 

Though  the  unhappy  man  who  was  accused  saw 
that  his  case  was  lost,  he  tried  to  say  something  in 
his  defence.  But  the  child,  instead  of  ordering  him 
to  be  punished,  looked  at  the  Caliph,  and  said: 
"  Commander  of  the  Faithful,  this  is  no  jesting  mat- 
ter. It  is  your  majesty  that  must  condemn  him,  and 
not  I,  though  I  did  it  yesterday  in  play." 

The  Caliph,  quite  sure  now  of  the  merchant's 
crime,  delivered  him  into  the  hands  of  the  ministers 
of  justice.  He  then  confessed  where  he  had  con- 
cealed the  thousand  pieces  of  gold,  which  were  soon 
restored  to  Ali  Cogia. 

The  just  monarch,  turning  to  the  judge  who  had 
just  let  the  merchant  go  free,  bade  him  learn  of  that 


ALI   COGIA   AND  THE   MERCHANT 


i-5<> 


BOOK    FIVE 


child  how  to  do  his  duty  with  greater  care,  and,  em- 
bracing the  boy,  sent  him  home  with  a  purse  of 
a  hundred  pieces  of  gold. 


pil'grim  age,  a  journey  to  a  sacred 

place, 
mart,  market, 
wit'ness,  a  person  who  has  seen  or 

known  something. 
main  tain',  to  keep  saying;  to  support 

by  reasons, 
ev'i  dence,  proof. 
pe  ti'tion,  a  written  request. 


ca'lrph,  the  title  of  a  ruler, 
viz'ier,  a  high  officer. 
dis  guised',  changed  in  appearance, 
grav'i  ty,  soberness. 
feigned,  made  believe;  pretended, 
sen'tence,  judgment. 
ac  quit'ted,  set  free;  declared  guilt- 
less, 
a  bashed',  ashamed. 


The  story  of  AH  Cogia  (a'le  ko'gya)  is  from  "The  Arabian 
Nights'  Entertainments,"  a  famous  series  of  tales  that  gave  pleas- 
ure to  a  Sultan  of  the  East  for  a  thousand  and  one  nights. 


LIGHT. 


F.  W.  BOURDILLON. 


The  night  has  a  thousand  eyes, 

And  the  day  but  one  ; 
Yet  the  light  of  the  whole  world  dies 

With  the  dying  sun. 

The  mind  has  a  thousand  eyes, 

And  the  heart  but  one ; 
Yet  the  light  of  a  whole  life  dies 

When  love  is  done. 


Francis  W.  Bourdillon  is  an  English  poet. 


WINTER   RAIN  151 

WINTER   RAIN. 

CHRISTINA   GEORGINA  ROSSETTI. 

"  If  came  the  winter  never, 
We  ne'er  should  love  the  spring." 

Every  valley  drinks, 

Every  dell  and  hollow : 
Where  the  kind  rain  sinks  and  sinks, 

Green  of  Spring  will  follow. 

Yet  a  lapse  of  weeks, 

Buds  will  burst  their  edges, 
Strip  their  wool-coats,  glue-coats,  streaks, 

In  the  woods  and  hedges ; 

Weave  a  bower  of  love 

For  birds  to  meet  each  other, 
Weave  a  canopy  above 

Nest  and  egg  and  mother. 

But  for  fattening  rain 

We  should  have  no  flowers, 
Never  a  bud  or  leaf  again 

But  for  soaking  showers ; 

Never  a  mated  bird 

In  the  rocking  tree-tops, 
Never  indeed  a  flock  or  herd 

To  graze  upon  the  lea-crops. 


152  BOOK   FIVE 

We  should  find  no  moss 

In  the  shadiest  places, 
Find  no  waving  meadow-grass 

Pied  with  broad-eyed  daisies : 

But  miles  of  barren  sand, 

With  never  a  son  or  daughter, 

Not  a  lily  on  the  land, 
Or  lily  on  the  water. 

lapse,  a  passing  away.  can'o  py,  covering.  pied,  spotted. 

Christina  Georgina  Rossetti  (i 830-1 894)  was  an  English 
author  who  has  written  many  sweet  and  tuneful  poems  for  young 
people. 


NESTS. 

JOHN  RUSKIN. 

Make  yourselves  nests  of  pleasant  thoughts! 
None  of  us  yet  know,  for  none  of  us  have  been 
taught  in  early  youth,  what  fairy  palaces  we  may 
build  of  beautiful  thoughts,  proof  against  all  adver- 
sity ;  bright  fancies,  satisfied  memories,  noble  histo- 
ries, faithful  sayings,  treasure-houses  of  precious 
and  restful  thoughts,  which  care  cannot  disturb, 
nor  pain  make  gloomy,  nor  poverty  take  away 
from  us  ;  houses  built  without  hands,  for  our  souls 
to  live  in. 


A   STORY   OF   THE   SPRINGTIME  153 

A   STORY   OF  THE   SPRINGTIME. 

GRACE  H.  KUPFER. 

In  the  blue  Mediterranean  Sea,  which  washes  the 
southern  shore  of  Europe,  lies  the  beautiful  island 
of  Sicily.  Long,  long  ago,  there  lived  on  this  island 
a  goddess  named  Ceres  (Ce'rez).  She  had  power 
to  make  the  earth  yieldj  plentiful  crops  of  grain,  or 
to  leave  it  barren ;  and  on  her  depended  the  food, 
and  therefore  the  life,  of  all  the  people  on  the  great, 
wide  earth. 

Ceres  had  one  fair  young  daughter,  whom  she 
loved  very  dearly.  And  no  wonder,  for  Proserpine 
(Pros'er  pin)  was  the  sunniest,  happiest  girl  you 
could  imagine. 

Her  face  was  all  white  and  pink,  like  apple 
blossoms  in  spring,  and  there  was  just  enough  blue 
in  her  eyes  to  give  you  a  glimpse  of  an  April  morn- 
ing sky.  Her  long,  golden  curls  reminded  you  of 
the  bright  sunlight.  In  fact,  there  was  something 
so  young  and  fair  and  tender  about  the  maiden  that, 
if  you  could  imagine  anything  so  strange  as  the 
whole  springtime,  with  all  its  loveliness,  changed 
into  a  human  being,  you  would  have  looked  but  an 
instant  at  Proserpine  and  said,  "  She  is  the  spring." 

Proserpine  spent   the   long,  happy  days   in    the 


154  BOOK   FIVE 

fields,  helping  her  mother,  or  dancing  and  singing 
among  the  flowers,  with  her  young  companions. 

Down  under  the  earth,  in  the  land  of  the  dead, 
lived  dark  King  Pluto.  The  days  were  very  lonely 
for  him  with  only  shadows  for  company.  Often 
and  often  he  had  tried  to  urge  some  goddess  to 
come  and  share  his  gloomy  throne;  but  not  the 
richest  jewels  or  wealth  could  tempt  any  one  of 
them  to  leave  the  bright  sunlight  above  and  dwell 
in  the  land  of  shades. 

One  day  Pluto  came  up  to  earth  and  was  driving 
along  in  his  swift  chariot,  when,  behind  some 
bushes,  he  heard  such  merry  voices  and  musical 
laughter  that  he  drew  rein,  and,  stepping  down, 
parted  the  bushes  to  see  who  was  on  the  other 
side.  There  he  saw  Proserpine  standing  in  the 
centre  of  a  ring  of  laughing  young  girls  who  were 
pelting  her  with  flowers. 

The  stern  old  king  felt  his  heart  beat  more 
quickly  at  sight  of  all  these  lovely  maidens,  and  he 
singled  out  Proserpine,  and  said  to  himself,  "She 
shall  be  my  queen.  That  fair  face  can  make  even 
dark  Hades  light  and  beautiful."  But  he  knew  it 
would  be  useless  to  ask  the  girl  for  her  consent; 
so,  with  a  bold  stride,  he  stepped  into  the  midst 
of  the  happy  circle. 

The  young  girls,  frightened  at  his  dark,  stern 


A   STORY   OF   THE   SPRINGTIME  155 

face,  fled  to  right  and  left.  But  Pluto  grasped 
Proserpine  by  the  arm  and  carried  her  to  his 
chariot,  and  then  the  horses  flew  along  the  ground, 
leaving  Proserpine's  startled  companions  far  behind. 

King  Pluto  knew  that  he  must  hasten  away  with 
his  prize,  lest  Ceres  should  discover  her  loss ;  and, 
to  keep  out  of  her  path,  he  drove  his  chariot  a 
roundabout  way.  He  came  to  a  river;  but  as  he 
neared  its  banks,  it  suddenly  began  to  bubble  and 
swell  and  rage,  so  that  Pluto  did  not  dare  to  drive 
through  its  waters.  To  go  back  by  another  way 
would  mean  great  loss  of  time ;  so  with  his  sceptre 
he  struck  the  ground  thrice.  It  opened,  and,  in  an 
instant,  horses,  chariot,  and  all,  plunged  into  the 
darkness  below. 

But  Proserpine  knew  that  the  nymph  of  the 
stream  had  recognized  her,  and  had  tried  to  save 
her  by  making  the  waters  of  the  stream  rise.  So, 
just  as  the  ground  was  closing  over  her,  the  girl 
seized  her  girdle  and  threw  it  far  out  into  the 
river.  She  hoped  that  in  some  way  the  girdle 
might  reach  Ceres  and  help  her  to  find  her  lost 
daughter. 

In  the  evening  Ceres  returned  to  her  home ;  but 
her  daughter,  who  usually  came  running  to  meet 
her,  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Ceres  searched  for 
her  in  all  the  rooms,  but  they  were  empty.     Then 


156  BOOK   FIVE 

she  lighted  a  great  torch  from  the  fires  of  a  volcano, 
and  went  wandering  among  the  fields,  looking  for 
her  child.  When  morning  broke,  and  she  had  found 
no  trace  of  Proserpine,  her  grief  was  terrible  to  see. 

On  that  sad  day,  Ceres  began  a  long,  long  wan- 
dering. Over  land  and  sea  she  journeyed,  bearing 
in  her  right  hand  the  torch  which  had  been  kindled 
in  the  fiery  volcano. 

All  her  duties  were  neglected,  and  everywhere 
the  crops  failed,  and  the  ground  was  barren  and 
dry.  Want  and  famine  took  the  place  of  wealth 
and  plenty  throughout  the  world.  It  seemed  as 
though  the  great  earth  grieved  with  the  mother  for 
the  loss  of  beautiful  Proserpine. 

When  the  starving  people  came  to  Ceres  and 
begged  her  to  resume  her  duties  and  to  be  their 
friend  again,  Ceres  lifted  her  great  eyes,  wearied 
with  endless  seeking,  and  answered  that  until 
Proserpine  was  found,  she  could  think  only  of  her 
child,  and  could  not  care  for  the  neglected  earth. 
So  all  the  people  cried  aloud  to  Jupiter  that  he 
should  bring  Proserpine  back  to  her  mother,  for 
they  were  sadly  in  need  of  great  Ceres'  help. 

At  last,  after  wandering  over  all  the  earth  in  her 
fruitless  search,  Ceres  returned  to  Sicily.  One  day, 
as  she  was  passing  a  river,  suddenly  a  little  swell  of 
water  carried  something  to  her  feet.     Stooping  to 


A   STORY   OF  THE   SPRINGTIME  157 

see  what  it  was,  she  picked  up  the  girdle  which 
Proserpine  had  long  ago  thrown  to  the  water- 
nymph. 

While  she  was  looking  at  it,  with  tear's  in  her 
eyes,  she  heard  a  fountain  near  her  bubbling  louder 
and  louder,  until  at  last  it  seemed  to  speak.  And 
this  is  what  it  said  :  — 

"  I  am  the  nymph  of  the  fountain,  and  I  come 
from  the  inmost  parts  of  the  earth,  O  Ceres,  great 
mother!  There  I  saw  your  daughter  seated  on  a 
throne  at  the  dark  king's  side.  But  in  spite  of  her 
splendor,  her  cheeks  were  pale  and  her  eyes  were 
heavy  with  weeping.  I  can  stay  no  longer  now,  O 
Ceres,  for  I  must  leap  into  the  sunshine.  The 
bright  sky  calls  me,  and  I  must  hasten  away." 
.  Then  Ceres  arose  and  went  to  Jupiter  and  said, 
"  I  have  found  the  place  where  my  daughter  is  hid- 
den. Give  her  back  to  me,  and  the  earth  shall  once 
more  be  fruitful,  and  the  people  shall  have  food." 

Jupiter  was  moved,  both  by  the  mother's  sor- 
row and  by  the  prayers  of  the  people  on  earth; 
and  he  said  that  Proserpine  might  return  to  her 
home  if  she  had  tasted  no  food  while  in  Pluto's 
kingdom. 

So  the  happy  mother  hastened  down  into  Hades. 
But  alas !  that  very  day  Proserpine  had  eaten  six 
pomegranate  seeds;   and   for  every   one   of  those 


158  BOOK   FIVE 

seeds  she  was  doomed  each  year  to  spend  a  month 
underground. 

For  six  months  of  the  year  Ceres  is  happy  with 
her  daughter.  At  Proserpine's  coming,  flowers 
bloom  and  birds  sing  and  the  earth  everywhere 
smiles  its  welcome  to  its  young  queen. 

Some  people  say  that  Proserpine  really  is  the 
springtime,  and  that  while  she  is  with  us  all  the 
earth  seems  fair  and  beautiful.  But  when  the  time 
comes  for  Proserpine  to  rejoin  King  Pluto  in  his 
dark  home  underground,  Ceres  hides  herself  and 
grieves  through  all  the  weary  months  until  her 
daughter's  return. 

Then  the  earth,  too,  is  sombre  and  sad.  The 
leaves  fall  to  the  ground,  as  though  the  trees  were 
weeping  for  the  loss  of  the  fair,  young  queen ;  and 
the  flowers  hide  underground,  until  the  eager  step 
of  the  maiden,  returning  to  earth,  awakens  all  nature 
from  its  winter  sleep. 


scep'tre,  a  staff"  carried  by  a  king  to 

show  his  power  to  rule, 
rec'og  nize,  to  know  again. 
Ju'piter,  the  great  king  of  all   the 

gods, 
char'i  ot,  a  grand  carriage,  with  two 

wheels. 


nymph,  a  goddess  of  the  forests  or 

waters, 
pome' gran  ate,  a  kind  of  fruit,  shaped 

like  an  orange,  but  having  a  hard 

rind,  red  pulp,  and  many  large 

seeds, 
som'bre,  dull;  gloomy. 


Grace  H.  Kupfer  is  an  American  writer  of  stories  for  children. 


Manners  often  make  fortunes. 


THE    PINE-TREE   SHILLINGS  159 

THE   PINE-TREE   SHILLINGS. 

NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE. 

Captain  John  Hull  was  the  mint-master  of  Mas- 
sachusetts, and  coined  all  the  money  that  was  made 
there.  This  was  a  new  line  of  business ;  for,  in  the 
earlier  days  of  the  colony,  the  only  coins  consisted 
of  gold  and  silver  money  of  England,  Portugal,  and 
Spain.  These  being  scarce,  the  people  were  often 
forced  to  barter  their  commodities,  instead  of  sell- 
ing them.  For  instance,  if  a  man  wanted  to  buy  a 
coat,  he  perhaps  exchanged  a  bearskin  for  it.  If 
he  wished  for  a  barrel  of  molasses,  he  might  pur- 
chase it  with  a  pile  of  pine  boards.  Musket-bullets 
were  used  instead  of  farthings. 

The  Indians  had  a  sort  of  money,  called  wam- 
pum, which  was  made  of  clam-shells;  and  this 
strange  sort  of  specie  was  likewise  taken  in  pay- 
ment of  debts,  by  the  English  settlers.  Bank- 
bills  had  never  been  heard  of.  There  was  not 
money  enough  of  any  kind,  in  many  parts  of  the 
country,  to  pay  the  salaries  of  the  ministers;  so 
that  they  sometimes  had  to  take  quintals  of  fish, 
bushels  of  corn,  or  cords  of  wood,  instead  of  silver 
or  gold. 


160  BOOK   FIVE 

As  the  people  grew  more  numerous,  and  their 
trade  one  with  another  increased,  the  want  of  cur- 
rent money  was  still  more  sensibly  felt.  To  sup- 
ply the  demand,  the  general  court  passed  a  law 
for  establishing  a  coinage  of  shillings,  sixpences, 
and  threepences.  Captain  John  Hull  was  ap- 
pointed to  manufacture  this  money,  and  was  to 
have  about  one  shilling  out  of  every  twenty  to 
pay  him  for  the  trouble  of  making  them. 

Hereupon,  all  the  old  silver  in  the  colony  was 
handed  over  to  Captain  John  Hull.  The  bat- 
tered silver  cans  and  tankards,  I  suppose,  and 
silver  buckles,  and  broken  spoons,  and  silver 
buttons  of  worn-out  coats,  and  silver  hilts  of 
swords  that  had  been  worn  at  courts  —  all  such 
curious  old  articles  were  doubtless  thrown  into 
the  melting-pot  together.  But  by  far  the  greater 
part  of  the  silver  consisted  of  bullion  from  the 
mines  of  South  America,  which  the  English  buc- 
caneers—who were  little  better  than  pirates  —  had 
taken  from  the  Spaniards,  and  brought  to  Massa- 
chusetts. 

When  all  this  old  and  new  silver  had  been  melted 
down  and  coined,  the  result  was  an  immense  amount 
of  splendid  shillings,  sixpences,  and  threepences. 
Each  had  the  date,  1652,  on  one  side,  and  the  figure 
of  a  pine  tree  on  the  other.     Hence  they  were  called 


THE   PINE-TREE   SHILLINGS  161 

pine-tree  shillings.  And  for  every  twenty  shillings 
that  he  coined,  you  will  remember,  Captain  John 
Hull  was  entitled  to  put  one  shilling  into  his  own 
pocket. 

The  magistrates  soon  began  to  suspect  that  the 
mint-master  would  have  the  best  of  the  bargain. 
They  offered  him  a  large  sum  of  money  if  he 
would  but  give  up  that  twentieth  shilling,  which 
he  was  continually  dropping  into  his  own  pocket. 
But  Captain  Hull  declared  himself  perfectly  satis- 
fied with  the  shilling.  And  well  he  might  be ;  for 
so  diligently  did  he  labor,  that,  in  a  few  years,  his 
pockets,  his  money-bags,  and  his  strong  box,  were 
overflowing  with  pine-tree  shillings. 

When  the  mint-master  had  grown  very  rich,  a 
young  man,  Samuel  Sewell  by  name,  came  court- 
ing his  only  daughter.  His  daughter  —  whose 
name  I  do  not  know,  but  we  will  call  her  Betsey  — 
was  a  fine,  hearty  damsel,  by  no  means  so  slender 
as  some  young  ladies  of  our  own  days.  .  On  the 
contrary,  having  always  fed  heartily  on  pumpkin- 
pies,  doughnuts,  Indian  puddings,  and  other  Puri- 
tan dainties,  she  was  as  round  and  plump  as  a 
pudding  herself. 

With  this  round,  rosy  Miss  Betsey,  did  Samuel 
Sewell  fall  in  love.  As  he  was  a  young  man  of 
good  character,  industrious  in  his  business,  and  a 


1 62  BOOK   FIVE 

member  of  the  church,  the  mint-master  very  readily 
gave  his  consent.  "  Yes ;  you  may  take  her,"  said 
he,  in  his  rough  way ;  "  and  you'll  find  her  a  heavy 
burden  enough ! " 

On  the  wedding-day,  we  may  suppose  that  honest 
John  Hull  dressed  himself  in  a  plum-colored  coat, 
all  the  buttons  of  which  were  made  of  pine-tree  shil- 
lings. The  buttons  of  his  waistcoat  were  sixpences ; 
and  the  knees  of  his  small-clothes  were  buttoned 
with  silver  threepences.  Thus  attired,  he  sat  with 
great  dignity  in  Grandfather's  chair;  and,  being  a 
portly  old  gentleman,  he  completely  filled  it  from 
elbow  to  elbow.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the  room, 
between  her  bridemaids,  sat  Miss  Betsey.  She  was 
blushing  with  all  her  might,  and  looked  like  a  full- 
blown peony,  or  a  great  red  apple. 

There,  too,  was  the  bridegroom,  dressed  in  a  fine 
purple  coat,  and  gold-lace  waistcoat,  with  as  much 
other  finery  as  the  Puritan  laws  and  customs  would 
allow  him  to  put  on.  His  hair  was  cropped  close 
to  his  head,  because  Governor  Endicott  had  for- 
bidden any  man  to  wear  it  below  the  ears.  But  he 
was  a  very  personable  young  man ;  and  so  thought 
the  bridemaids,  and  Miss  Betsey  herself. 

The  mint-master  also  was  pleased  with  his  new 
son-in-law ;  especially  as  he  had  courted  Miss  Betsey 
out  of  pure  love,  and  had  said  nothing  at  all  about 


BETSY  SEWELL   IN   THE   SCALES 


i64  BOOK   FIVE 

her  portion.  So  when  the  marriage  ceremony  was 
over,  Captain  Hull  whispered  a  word  to  two  of  his 
men-servants,  who  immediately  went  out,  and  soon 
returned,  lugging  in  a  large  pair  of  scales.  They 
were  such  a  pair  as  wholesale  merchants  use  for 
weighing  bulky  commodities;  and  quite  a  bulky 
commodity  was  now  to  be  weighed  in  them. 

"Daughter  Betsey,"  said  the  mint-master,  "get 
into  one  side  of  these  scales."  Miss  Betsey  —  or 
Mrs.  Sewell,  as  we  must  now  call  her  —  did  as  she 
was  bid,  like  a  dutiful  child,  without  any  question 
of  the  why  and  wherefore.  But  what  her  father 
could  mean,  unless  to  make  her  husband  pay  for 
her  by  the  pound,  she  had  not  the  least  idea. 

"  And  now,"  said  honest  John  Hull  to  his  ser- 
vants, "  bring  that  box  hither."  The  box  to  which 
the  mint-master  pointed  was  a  huge,  square,  iron- 
bound  oaken  chest.  The  servants  tugged  with 
might  and  main,  but  could  not  lift  this  enormous 
receptacle,  and  were  finally  obliged  to  drag  it  across 
the  floor. 

Captain  Hull  then  took  a  key  from  his  girdle, 
unlocked  the  chest,  and  lifted  its  ponderous  lid. 
Behold !  it  was  full  to  the  brim  of  bright  pine-tree 
shillings,  fresh  from  the  mint ;  and  Samuel  Sewell 
began  to  think  that  his  father-in-law  had  got  posses- 
sion of  all  the  money  in  the  Massachusetts  treasury. 


THE    PINE-TREE   SHILLINGS 


165 


But  it  was  only  the  mint-master's  honest  share  of 
the  coinage. 

Then  the  servants,  at  Captain  Hull's  command, 
heaped  double  handfuls  of  shillings  into  one  side 
of  the  scales,  while  Betsey  remained  in  the  other. 
Jingle,  jingle,  went  the  shillings,  as  handful  after 
handful  was  thrown  in,  till,  plump  as  she  was, 
they  fairly  weighed  the  young  lady  from  the  floor. 

"  There,  son  Sewell !  "  cried  the.  honest  mint-mas- 
ter, resuming  his  seat,  "  take  these  shillings  for  my 
daughter's  portion.  Use  her  kindly,  and  thank 
Heaven  for  her.  It  is  not  every  wife  that's  worth 
her  weight  in  silver." 


bar'ter,  to  exchange  one  thing  for 
another. 

com  mod 'i  ties,  things  bought  and 
sold. 

far'thing,  the  fourth  of  a  penny. 

spe'cie,  coin. 

sal'a  ry,  wages  by  the  month  or  year. 

quin'tal,  a  hundred  pounds. 

mint,  a  place  where  money  is  coined. 

cur'rent,  passing  from  person  to  per- 
son. 


tank'ards,  large  drinking  cups. 

bul'lion,  gold  or  silver  in  mass,  before 
it  is  coined. 

buc  ca  neer/,  a  robber  upon  the  sea. 

en  ti'tled,  had  the  right  to  take. 

small  clothes,  knee  breeches. 

per/son  a  ble,  of  good  appearance. 

re  cep'ta  cle,  that  which  is  used  to 
contain  something. 

por'tion,  money  or  other  wealth  given 
to  a  young  woman  on  her  wed- 
ding day. 


Nathaniel  Hawthorne,  one  of  the  greatest  American  authors, 
was  born  in  Salem,  Mass.,  in  1804,  and  died  in  Plymouth,  N.H., 
in  1864.  His  "Tanglewood  Tales,"  "Wonder  Book,"  "Mosses 
from  an  Old  Manse,"  "Twice  Told  Tales,"  and  "House  of  the 
Seven  Gables  "  are  read  to-day  with  more  appreciation  than  ever. 


166  BOOK    FIVE 

LITTLE   AND   GREAT. 

CHARLES   MACKAY. 

A  traveller,  through  a  dusty  road, 

Strewed  acorns  on  the  lea ; 
And  one  took  root  and  sprouted  up, 

And  grew  into  a  tree. 
Love  sought  its  shade  at  evening  time, 

To  breathe  its  early  vows ; 
And  Age  was  pleased,  in  heats  of  noon, 

To  bask  beneath  its  boughs. 
The  dormouse  loved  its  dangling  twigs, 

The  birds  sweet  music  bore  ; 
It  stood  a  glory  in  its  place, 

A  blessing  evermore. 

A  little  spring  had  lost  its  way 

Amid  the  grass  and  fern ; 
A  passing  stranger  scooped  a  well, 

Where  weary  men  might  turn. 
He  walled  it  in,  and  hung  with  care 

A  ladle  at  the  brink ; 
He  thought  not  of  the  deed  he  did, 

But  judged  that  Toil  might  drink. 
He  passed  again  —  and  lo !  the  well, 


LITTLE   AND   GREAT  167 

By  summers  never  dried, 
Had  cooled  ten  thousand  parching  tongues, 
And  saved  a  life  beside. 

A  dreamer  dropped  a  random  thought ; 

'Twas  old  —  and  yet  'twas  new ; 
A  simple  fancy  of  the  brain, 

But  strong  in  being  true. 
It  shone  upon  a  genial  mind, 

And  lo  !  its  light  became 
A  lamp  of  life,  a  beacon  ray, 

A  monitory  flame. 
The  thought  was  small  —  its  issue  great, 

A  watch-fire  on  the  hill. 
It  sheds  its  radiance  far  adown, 

And  cheers  the  valley  still. 

A  nameless  man,  amid  a  crowd 

That  thronged  the  daily  mart, 
Let  fall  a  word  of  hope  and  love, 

Unstudied,  from  the  heart. 
A  whisper  on  the  tumult  thrown, 

A  transitory  breath, 
It  raised  a  brother  from  the  dust, 

It  saved  a  soul  from  death. 
O  germ  !  O  fount !  O  word  of  love ! 

O  thought  at  random  cast ! 


i68 


BOOK    FIVE 


Ye  were  but  little  at  the  first, 
But  mighty  at  the  last. 


dor'mouse,  a  small  animal,  somewhat 

like  a  squirrel, 
gen'ial,  kind ;  willing, 
ran'dom,  chance. 


mon'i  to  ry,  giving  warning, 
tu'mult,  noisy  confusion, 
tran'si  to  ry,  lasting  for  only  a  short 
time. 


Charles  Mackay  (i  814-1889)  was  a  Scotch  writer,  many  of 
whose  poems  teach  a  wholesome  lesson. 


JOHN    RIDD   AND    LORNA   DOONE. 

RICHARD  D.  BLACKMORE. 
I. 

When  I  was  turned  fourteen  years  old,  it  hap- 
pened to  me  without  choice,  I  may  say,  to  explore 
the  Bagworthy  water.  And  it  came  about  in  this 
wise :  — 

My  mother  had  long  been  ailing,  and  not  well 
able  to  eat  much.  Now  I  chanced  to  remember 
that  once  at  the  time  of  the  holidays  I  had  brought 
dear  mother  from  Tiverton  a  jar  of  pickled  loaches, 
caught  by  myself,  and  baked  in  the  kitchen  oven, 
with  vinegar,  a  few  leaves  of  bay,  and  about  a  dozen 
peppercorns.  And  mother  had  said  that  in  all  her 
life  she  had  never  tasted  anything  fit  to  be  com- 
pared  with   them.     I    now   resolved   to  get  some 


JOHN    R1DD   AND    LORNA   DOONE  169 

loaches  for  her,  and  do  them  in  the  selfsame  man- 
ner, just  to  make  her  eat  a  bit. 

Being  resolved  to  catch  some  loaches,  whatever 
trouble  it  cost  me,  I  set  forth  without  a  word  to  any 
one,  in  the  forenoon  of  St.  Valentine's  day. 

I  never  could  forget  that  day,  and  how  bitter 
cold  the  water  was.  For  I  doffed  my  shoes  and 
hose,  and  put  them  into  a  bag  about  my  neck,  left 
my  little  coat  at  home,  and  tied  my  shirt-sleeves 
back  to  my  shoulders.  Then  I  took  a  three-pronged 
fork  firmly  bound  to  a  rod  with  cord,  and  a  piece 
of  canvas  kerchief  with  a  lump  of  bread  inside  it; 
and  so  went  into  the  pebbly  water,  trying  to  think 
how  warm  it  was. 

For  more  than  a  mile  all  down  the  Lynn  stream, 
scarcely  a  stone  I  left  unturned,  being  thoroughly 
skilled  in  the  tricks  of  the  loach,  and  knowing  how 
he  hides  himself.  For,  being  gray-spotted,  and  clear 
to  see  through,  he  will  stay  quite  still  where  a 
streak  of  weed  is  in  the  rapid  water,  hoping  to  be 
overlooked,  not  caring  even  to  wag  his  tail.  Then, 
being  disturbed,  he  flips  away. 

When  I  had  travelled  two  miles  or  so,  suddenly, 
in  an  open  space,  where  meadows  spread  about  it, 
I  found  a  good  stream  flowing  softly  into  the  body 
of  our  brook.  Hereupon  I  drew  up  and  thought, 
because  the  water  was  bitter  cold,  and  my  little  toes 


170  BOOK   FIVE 

were  aching.  So  on  the  bank  I  rubbed  them  well 
with  a  sprout  of  young  sting-nettle,  and  having 
skipped  about  awhile,  was  inclined  to  eat  a  bit. 

I  sat  there  munching  a  crust  of  sweet  brown- 
bread,  and  a  bit  of  cold  bacon  along  with  it,  and 
kicking  my  little  red  heels  against  the  dry  loam  to 
keep  them  warm.  It  seemed  a  sad  business  to  go 
back  now  and  tell  Annie  there  were  no  loaches; 
and  yet  it  was  a  frightful  thing,  knowing  what  I 
did  of  it,  to  venture,  where  no  grown  man  durst,  up 
the  Bagworthy  water. 

However,  as  I  ate  more  and  more,  my  spirit  arose 
within  me,  and  I  thought  of  what  my  father  had 
been,  and  how  he  had  told  me  a  hundred  times 
never  to  be  a  coward.  And  then  I  grew  warm,  and 
my  little  heart  was  ashamed  of  its  pit-a-patting,  and 
I  said  to  myself,  "  Now,  if  father  looks,  he  shall  see 
that  I  obey  him."  So  I  put  the  bag  around  my 
neck  again,  and  buckled  my  breeches  far  up  from 
the  knee,  expecting  deeper  water,  and  crossing  the 
Lynn,  went  stoutly  up  under  the  branches  which 
hang  so  dark  on  the  Bagworthy  river. 

Here,  on  the  whole,  I  had  very  comely  sport  of 
loaches,  trout,  and  minnows,  forking  some,  and 
tickling  some,  and  driving  others  to  shallow  nooks, 
whence  I  could  bail  them  ashore.  Now,  if  you  have 
ever  been  fishing,  you  will  not  wonder  that  I  was 


JOHN    RIDD   AND    LORNA    DOONE  171 

led  on,  forgetting  all  about  danger,  and  taking  no 
heed  of  the  time,  but  shouting  in  a  childish  way 
whenever  I  caught  a  "whacker"  (as  we  called  a 
big  fish  at  Tiverton). 

Now  the  day  was  falling  fast  behind  the  brown 
of  the  hilltops;  and  the  trees,  being  void  of  leaf 
and  hard,  seemed  giants  ready  to  beat  me.  Every 
moment,  as  the  sky  was  clearing  up  for  a  white  frost, 
the  cold  of  the  water  got  worse  and  worse,  until  I 
was  fit  to  cry  with  it.  And  so,  in  a  sorry  plight,  I 
came  to  an  opening  in  the  bushes,  whitened  with 
snow  (as  I  thought)  at  the  sides,  till  I  saw  it  was 
only  foam-froth. 

Though  I  could  swim  with  great  ease  and  com- 
fort, and  feared  no  depth  of  water,  when  I  could 
fairly  come  to  it,  yet  I  had  no  desire  to  go  over 
head  and  ears  into  this  great  pool,  being  so  cramped, 
and  weary,  and  cold. 

But  soon  I  saw  the  reason  of  the  stir  and  depth 
of  that  great  pit,  as  well  as  of  the  roaring  sound 
which  long  had  made  me  wonder.  For  skirting 
round  one  side,  with  very  little  comfort,  because  the 
rocks  were  high  and  steep,  and  the  ledge  at  the  foot 
so  narrow,  I  came  to  a  sudden  sight  and  marvel, 
such  as  I  never  dreamed  of.  For,  lo!  I  stood  at 
the  foot  of  a  long,  pale  slide  of  water,  coming 
smoothly  to  me,  without  any  break  or  hindrance,  for 


1 72  BOOK   FIVE 

a  hundred  yards  or  more,  and  fenced  on  either  side 
with  cliff,  sheer,  and  straight,  and  shining.  The 
water  neither  ran  nor  fell,  nor  leaped  with  any 
spouting,  but  made  one  even  slope  of  it,  as  if  it  had 
been  combed  or  planed,  and  looking  like  a  plank 
laid  down  a  deep,  black  staircase. 

The  look  of  this  place  had  a  sad  effect,  scaring 
me  very  greatly,  and  making  me  feel  that  I  would 
give  something  only  to  be  at  home  again,  with 
Annie  cooking  my  supper,  and  our  dog,  Watch, 
sniffing  upward.  But  nothing  would  come  of  wish- 
ing ;  that  I  had  found  out  long  ago. 

Then  said  I  to  myself,  "John  Ridd,  these  trees, 
and  pools,  and  lonesome  rocks,  and  setting  of  the  sun- 
light, are  making  a  coward  of  thee.  Shall  I  go  back 
to  my  mother  so,  and  be  called  her  fearless  boy  ?  " 

But  I  am  free  to  own  that  it  was  not  any  fine 
sense  of  shame  which  settled  my  decision.  That 
which  saved  me  from  turning  back  was  a  strange 
desire.  In  a  word,  I  would  risk  a  great  deal  to 
know  what  made  the  water  come  down  like  that, 
and  what  there  was  at  the  top  of  it. 

Then  I  tied  my  fish  around  my  neck  more 
tightly,  and,  not  stopping  to  look  much,  crawled 
along  over  the  fork  of  rocks,  where  the  water  had 
scooped  the  stone  out,  and  softly  let  my  feet  into 
the  dip  and  rush  of  the  torrent. 


JOHN    RIDD   AND    LORNA    DOONE  173 

Here  I  had  reckoned  without  my  host.  I  nearly 
went  down  into  the  great,  black  pool,  and  would 
never  have  been  heard  of  more;  and  this  must 
have  been  the  end  of  me,  except  for  my  trusty 
loach-fork.  For  the  green  waves  came  down  upon 
me,  and  my  legs  were  gone  off  in  a  moment,  and  I 
had  not  time  to  cry  out  with  wonder,  only  to  think 
of  my  mother  and  Annie.  But  all  in  a  moment, 
before  I  knew  aught,  except  that  I  must  die  out  of 
the  way,  with  a  roar  of  water  upon  me,  my  fork 
stuck  fast  in  the  rock,  and  I  was  borne  up  upon  it. 

I  gathered  my  legs  back  slowly,  as  if  they  were 
fish  to  be  landed,  stopping  whenever  the  water  flew 
too  strongly  off  my  shin-bones.  In  this  manner  I 
won  a  footing,  leaning  well  forward  like  a  draught- 
horse,  and  balancing  on  my  strength,  as  it  were,  with 
the  ashen  stake  set  behind  me.  Then  I  said  to 
myself,  "  John  Ridd,  the  sooner  you  get  yourself 
out  by  the  way  you  came,  the  better  it  will  be  for 
you." 

But  to  my  great  fright  I  saw  that  no  choice  was 
left  me  now.  I  must  climb  somehow  up  that  hill 
of  water.  If  I  could  not,  I  must  be  washed  down 
into  the  pool  and  whirl  about  till  it  drowned  me. 

Having  said  the  Lord's  Prayer  (which  was  all  I 
knew),  and  made  a  very  bad  job  of  it,  I  grasped  the 
good  loach-stick  under  a   knot,   and   steadied   me 


i74  BOOK    FIVE 

with  my  left  hand,  and  so  began  my  course  up  the 
fearful  torrent-way.  To  me  it  seemed  half  a  mile, 
at  least,  of  sliding  water  above  me,  but  in  truth  it 
was  little  more  .than  a  furlong,  as  I  came  to  know 
afterward. 

The  water  was  only  six  inches  deep,  or  from  that 
to  nine  at  the  utmost,  and  all  the  way  up  I  could 
see  my  feet  looking  white  in  the  gloom  of  the 
hollow,  and  here  and  there  I  found  a  resting-place,  to 
hold  on  by  the  cliff  and  pant  a  while. 

How  I  went  carefully,  step  by  step,  keeping  my 
arms  in  front  of  me,  and  never  daring  to  straighten 
my  knees,  is  more  than  I  can  tell  clearly.  Only 
the  greatest  danger  of  all  was  just  where  I  saw  none, 
but  ran  up  a  patch  of  black  ooze-weed  in  a  very 
boastful  manner  being  now  not  far  from  the  summit. 
Here  I  fell  and  was  like  to  have  broken  my  knee 
cap.  While  I  was  nursing  the  bruised  leg,  the  cramp 
got  into  the  other.  For  a  while  I  could  only  roar 
till  my  mouth  was  full  of  water  and  all  of  my  body 
sliding.  But  my  elbow  caught  in  a  rock  hole  and  I 
managed  to  start  again. 

Now,  being  in  sore  fright,  because  I  was  so 
near  the  top,  I  labored  hard,  with  both  legs  and 
arms  going  like  a  mill,  and  grunting.  The  world 
grew  green  and  gliddery,  and  I  durst  not  look  behind 
me.     Then  I  made  up  my  mind  to  die  at  last ;  for 


JOHN    RIDD   AND    LORNA    DOONE  175 

so  my  legs  would  ache  no  more,  and  my  breath  not 
pain  my  heart  so ;  only  it  did  seem  such  a  pity,  after 
fighting  so  long,  to  give  in,  and  the  light  was  coming 
upon  me,  and  again  I  fought  toward  it.  Then 
suddenly  I  felt  fresh  air  and  fell  into  it  headlong. 

IL 

When  I  came  to  myself  again,  my  hands  were 
full  of  young  grass  and  mould,  and  a  little  girl 
kneeling  at  my  side  was  rubbing  my  forehead 
tenderly  with  a  dock-leaf  and  a  handkerchief. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad ! "  she  whispered  softly,  as  I 
opened  my  eyes  and  looked  at  her.  "  Now  you 
will  try  to  be  better,  won't  you  ?  " 

I  had  never  heard  so  sweet  a  sound  as  came  from 
between  her  bright  red  lips,  while  there  she  knelt 
and  gazed  at  me.  Neither  had  I  ever  seen  anything 
so  beautiful  as  the  large  dark  eyes  intent  upon  me, 
full  of  pity  and  wonder. 

Thereupon  I  sat  upright,  with  my  little  trident  still 
in  one  hand,  and  was  much  afraid  to  speak  to  her, 
being  conscious  of  my  country  brogue,  lest  she 
should  cease  to  like  me.  But  she  clapped  her 
hands,  and  made  a  trifling  dance  around  my  back, 
and  came  to  me  on  the  other  side,  as  if  I  were  a 
great  plaything. 


176  BOOK   FIVE 

"  What  is  your  name  ? "  she  said,  as  if  she  had 
every  right  to  ask  me ;  "  and  how  did  you  come 
here,  and  what  are  these  wet  things  in  this  great 
bag?" 

"  You  had  better  let  them  alone,"  I  said.  "  They 
are  loaches  for  my  mother.  But  I  will  give  you 
some,  if  you  like." 

"  Dear  me,  how  much  you  think  of  them  !  Why, 
they  are  only  fish.  But  how  your  feet  are  bleed- 
ing! Oh,  I  must  tie  them  up  for  you.  And  no 
shoes  nor  stockings  !     Is  your  mother  very  poor  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  said,  being  vexed  at  this.  "  We  are  rich 
enough  to  buy  all  this  great  meadow,  if  we  chose ; 
and  here  my  shoes  and  stockings  be." 

"Why,  they  are  quite  as  wet  as  your  feet;  and 
I  cannot  bear  to  see  your  feet.  Oh,  please  let  me 
manage  them.     I  will  do  it  very  softly." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  much  of  that,"  I  replied.  "  I 
shall  put  some  goose-grease  on  them.  But  how  you 
are  looking  at  me !  I  never  saw  any  one  like  you 
before.  My  name  is  John  Ridd.  What  is  your 
name  ? " 

"  Lorna  Doone,"  she  answered,  in  a  low  voice,  as 
if  afraid  of  it,  and  hanging  her  head  so  that  I  could 
see  only  her  forehead  and  eyelashes.  "  If  you  please, 
my  name  is  Lorna  Doone.  I  thought  you  must 
have  known  it." 


JOHN  AND   LORNA 


178  BOOK    FIVE 

Then  I  stood  up  and  touched  her  hand,  and  tried 
to  make  her  look  at  me ;  but  she  only  turned  away 
the  more.  Young  and  harmless  as  she  was,  her 
name  alone  made  guilt  of  her.  Nevertheless,  I 
could  not  help  looking  at  her  tenderly,  and  the 
more  when  her  blushes  turned  into  tears,  and  her 
tears  to  long,  low  sobs. 

"Don't  cry,"  I  said,  "whatever  you  do.  I  am 
sure  you  have  never  done  any  harm.  I  will  give 
you  all  my  fish,  Lorna,  and  catch  some  more  for 
mother ;  only  don't  be  angry  with  me." 

I,  for  my  part,  being  vexed  at  her  behavior  to  me, 
took  up  all  my  things  to  go,  and  made  a  fuss  about 
it,  to  let  her  know  I  was  going.  But  she  did  not 
call  me  back  at  all,  as  I  had  been  sure  she  would 
do ;  moreover,  I  knew  that  to  try  the  descent  was 
almost  certain  death  to  me,  and  it  looked  as  dark 
as  pitch.  So  at  the  mouth  I  turned  round  again, 
and  came  back  to  her,  and  said,  "  Lorna." 

"  Oh,  I  thought  you  were  gone,"  she  answered. 
"Why  did  you  ever  come  here?  Do  you  know 
what  they  would  do  to  us,  if  they  found  you  here 
with  me  ? " 

"  Beat  us,  I  dare  say,  very  hard,  or  me  at  least. 
They  could  never  beat  you." 

"  No.  They  would  kill  us  both  outright,  and 
bury  us  here  by  the  water." 


JOHN    RIDD   AND    LORNA   DOONE  179 

"  But  what  should  they  kill  me  for?  " 

"  Because  you  have  found  the  way  up  here,  and 
they  never  could  believe  it.  Now,  please  to  go;  oh, 
please  to  go.  They  will  kill  us  both  in  a  moment. 
Yes,  I  like  you  very  much  "  —  for  I  was  teasing  her 
to  say  it  —  "very  much  indeed,  and  I  will  call  you 
John  Ridd,  if  you  like.  Only  please  to  go,  John. 
And  when  your  feet  are  well,  you  know,  you  can 
come  and  tell  me  how  they  are." 

"  But  I  tell  you,  Lorna,  I  like  you  very  much 
indeed,  nearly  as  much  as  Annie,  and  a  great  deal 
more  than  Lizzie.  And  I  never  saw  any  one  like 
you ;  and  I  must  come  back  again  to-morrow,  and 
so  must  you,  to  see  me ;  and  I  will  bring  you  such 
lots  of  things  —  there  are  apples  still,  and  a  thrush 
I  caught  with  only  one  leg  broken,  and  our  dog  has 
just  had  puppies,  and  —  " 

"  Oh,  dear !  they  won't  let  me  have  a  dog.  There 
is  not  a  dog  in  the  valley.  They  say  they  are  such 
noisy  things  —  " 

"  Hush ! "  A  shout  came  down  the  valley. 
Lorna's  face  went  from  pleasant  play  to  terror. 
She  shrank  to  me,  and  looked  up  at  me.  I  at 
once  made  up  my  mind  to  save  her  or  to  die  with 
her. 

"  Come  with  me  down  the  waterfall.  I  can  carry 
you  easily ;  and  mother  will  take  care  of  you." 


180  BOOK   FIVE 

"  No,  no,"  she  cried,  as  I  took  her  up0  "  I  will 
tell  you  what  to  do.  They  are  only  looking  for 
me.     You  see  that  hole  —  that  hole  there  ? " 

She  pointed  to  a  little  niche  in  the  rock  which 
bordered  the  meadow,  about  fifty  yards  away 
from  us. 

"  Yes,  I  see  it ;  but  they  will  see  me  crossing  the 
grass  to  get  there." 

"  Look,  look !  "  She  could  hardly  speak.  "  There 
is  a  way  out  from  the  top  of  it.  They  would  kill 
me  if  I  told  it.  Oh,  here  they  come;  I  can  see 
them." 

The  little  maid  turned  as  white  as  the  snow  which 
hung  on  the  rocks  above  her,  and  she  looked  at  the 
water  and  then  at  me,  and  she  cried,  "  Oh,  dear ! 
oh,  dear !  "  And  then  she  began  to  sob,  but  I  drew 
her  behind  the  bushes,  and  close  down  to  the  water, 
where  it  was  quiet  and  shelving  deep.  Here  they 
could  not  see  either  of  us  from  the  upper  valley,  and 
might  have  sought  a  long  time  for  us,  even  when 
they  came  quite  near,  if  the  trees  had  been  clad  in 
their  summer  clothes.  Luckily,  I  had  picked  up  my 
fish  and  taken  my  three-pronged  fork  away. 

Crouching  in  that  hollow  nest,  I  saw  a  dozen 
fierce  men  come  down,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
water,  not  bearing  any  firearm,  but  looking  lax  and 
jovial,  as  if  they  were  come  from  riding. 


JOHN    RIDD   AND   LORNA   DOONE  181 

"  Queen,  Queen ! "  they  were  shouting,  here  and 
there,  and  now  and  then.  "Where  is  our  little 
queen  gone  ?  " 

"  They  always  call  me  *  Queen,'  and  I  am  to  be 
queen  by  and  by,"  Lorna  whispered  to  me.  "  Oh, 
they  are  crossing  by  the  timber  there,  and  then  they 
are  sure  to  see  us." 

"  Stop,"  said  I ;  "  now  I  see  what  to  do.  I  must 
get  into  the  water,  and  you  must  go  to  sleep." 

"  To  be  sure,  yes,  away  in  the  meadow  there.  But 
how  bitter  cold  it  will  be  for  you  ! " 

She  saw  in  a  moment  the  way  to  do  it,  sooner 
than  I  could  tell  her ;  and  there  was  no  time  to  lose. 

"  Now  mind  you  never  come  again,"  she  whispered 
over  her  shoulder,  as  she  crept  away  with  a  childish 
twist. 

Daring  scarce  to  peep,  I  crept  into  the  water,  and 
lay  down  bodily  in  it,  with  my  head  between  two 
blocks  of  stone,  and  some  flood-drift  combing  over 
me.  The  dusk  was  deepeningbetween  the  hills,  and 
a  white  mist  lay  on  the  river.  But  I  could  see  every 
ripple,  and  twig,  and  rush,  and  glazing  of  the  twilight 
above  it,  as  bright  as  in  a  picture,  so  that  there 
seemed  to  me  no  chance  but  that  the  men  must  find 
me.  All  this  time  they  were  shouting,  until  the 
rocks  all  round  the  valley  rang. 

Lorna  was  lying  beneath  a  rock,  thirty  or  forty 


182  BOOK   FIVE 

yards  from  me,  feigning  to  be  fast  asleep,  with  her 
dress  spread  beautifully,  and  her  hair  drawn  over 
her. 

At  last  one  of  the  great  rough  men  came  round  a 
corner  upon  her;  and  there  he  stopped  and  gazed 
a  while  at  her.  Then  he  caught  her  up  in  his  arms, 
and  kissed  her  so  that  I  heard  him. 

"  Here  our  queen  is  !  Here's  the  queen  ;  here's  the 
captain's  daughter !  "  he  shouted  to  his  comrades ; 
"  fast  asleep  !  Now  I  have  first  claim  to  her  ;  and 
no  one  else  shall  touch  the  child.    Back,  all  of  you  !  " 

He  set  her  little  form  upon  his  great  square 
shoulder,  and  her  narrow  feet  in  one  broad  hand ; 
and  so  in  triumph  marched  away,  with  the  purple 
velvet  of  her  skirt  ruffling  in  his  long  black  beard 
and  the  silken  length  of  her  hair  fetched  out,  like  a 
cloud  by  the  wind,  behind  her. 
,  Going  up  that  darkened  glen,  little  Lorna,  riding 
still  with  the  largest  and  most  fierce  of  them,  turned 
and  put  up  a  hand  to  me,  and  I  put  up  a  hand  to 
her,  in  the  thick  of  the  mist  and  the  willows. 

I  crept  into  a  bush  for  warmth,  and  rubbed  my 
shivering  legs  on  bark,  and  longed  for  mother's 
fagot.  Then  as  daylight  sank,  I  knew  that  now 
must  be  my  time  to  get  away  if  there  were  any.  So 
I  managed  to  crawl  from  the  bank  to  the  niche  in 
the  cliff  which  Lorna  had  shown  me. 


JOHN    RIDD   AND   LORNA   DOONE  183 

Through  the  dusk  I  had  trouble  to  see  the  open- 
ing, at  even  five  yards  of  distance.  But  I  entered 
well,  and  held  on  by  some  dead  fern  stems,  and  did 
hope  that  no  one  would  shoot  me. 

But  my  joy  was  like  to  have  ended  in  sad  grief 
both  to  myself  and  my  mother.  For,  hearing  a 
noise  in  front  of  me,  and  like  a  coward  not  knowing 
where,  but  afraid  to  turn  round  or  think  of  it,  I  felt 
myself  going  down  some  deep  passage  into  a  pit  of 
darkness.  Then,  without  knowing  how,  I  was  lean- 
ing over  the  night  of  water. 

But  suddenly  a  robin  sang  (as  they  will  do  after 
dark,  toward  spring)  in  the  brown  fern  and  ivy 
behind  me.  I  took  it  for  our  little  Annie's  voice 
(for  she  could  call  any  robin)  and  gathering  quick, 
warm  comfort,  sprang  up  the  steep  way  toward  the 
starlight.  Climbing  back,  as  the  stones  glided  down, 
I  heard  the  greedy  waves  go  lapping,  like  a  blind, 
black  dog,  in  the  hollow  depths  of  darkness. 


loach,  a  small  fish  of  Europe. 
pep'per  corn,  a  dried  berry  of  the 

black  pepper. 
VOid,  lacking;   without. 
doff,  take  off ;    do  off. 
draught'-horse  (draft),  a  horse  used 

for  drawing  loads. 


fur'long,  one-eighth  of  a  mile. 

glid'dery,  slippery. 

tri'dent,  a  staff  with  three  points; 
here,  the  fork. 

brogue  (br5g),  peculiar  way  of  pro- 
nouncing. 

fag'ot,  a  piece  of  fire-wood. 


Richard  Doddridge  Blackmore  (1 825-1 900)  was  an  English 
lawyer  and  novelist.  This  extract  is  from  his  best-known  book, 
"  Lorna  Doone." 


i84  BOOK   FIVE 

THE    BROOK. 

ALFRED   TENNYSON. 

I  come  from  haunts  of  coot  and  hern, 

I  make  a  sudden  sally, 
And  sparkle  out  among  the  fern, 

To  bicker  down  a  valley. 

By  thirty  hills  I  hurry  down, 
Or  slip  between  the  ridges, 

By  twenty  thorps,  a  little  town, 
And  half  a  hundred  bridges. 

Till  last  by  Philip's  farm  I  flow 
To  join  the  brimming  river; 

For  men  may  come,  and  men  may  go, 
But  I  go  on  forever. 

I  chatter  over  stony  ways, 
In  little  sharps  and  trebles, 

I  bubble  into  eddying  bays, 
I  babble  on  the  pebbles. 

With  many  a  curve  my  banks  I  fret 
By  many  a  field  and  fallow, 

And  many  a  fairy  foreland  set 
With  willow-weed  and  mallow. 

I  chatter,  chatter,  as  I  flow 
To  join  the  brimming  river, 


186  BOOK   FIVE 

For  men  may  come,  and  men  may  go. 
But  I  go  on  forever. 

I  wind  about,  and  in  and  out, 
With  here  a  blossom  sailing, 

And  here  and  there  a  lusty  trout, 
And  here  and  there  a  grayling, 

And  here  and  there  a  foamy  flake 

Upon  me,  as  I  travel 
With  many  a  silvery  waterbreak 

Above  the  golden  gravel, 

And  draw  them  all  along,  and  flow 
To  join  the  brimming  river, 

For  men  may  come,  and  men  may  go, 
But  I  go  on  forever. 

I  steal  by  lawns  and  grassy  plots, 

I  slide  by  hazel  covers, 
I  move  the  sweet  forget-me-nots 

That  grow  for  happy  lovers. 

I  slip,  I  slide,  I  gloom,  I  glance, 
Among  my  skimming  swallows, 

I  make  the  netted  sunbeam  dance 
Against  my  sandy  shallows. 

I  murmur  under  moon  and  stars 
In  brambly  wildernesses; 


THE   BROOK 


187 


I  linger  by  my  shingly  bars; 
I  loiter  round  my  cresses ; 


And  out  again  I  curve  and  flow 
To  join  the  brimming  river, 

For  men  may  come,  and  men  may  go, 
But  I  go  on  forever. 


COOt,  a  waterfowl, 
hern,  the  heron,  a  wading  bird, 
bick'er,  to  move  quickly,  or  with  a 
pattering  noise. 


thorp,  a  cluster  of  houses. 
fal'low,  land  ploughed  but  not  seeded, 
gray'ling,  a  fish  something  like  a  trout. 
shin'gly,  covered  with  loose  gravel. 


Alfred  Tennyson  was  one  of  the  greatest  poets  of  the  last  cen- 
tury. He  was  born  in  England  in  1809,  and  died  in  1892.  He 
was  poet-laureate  for  forty-two  years.  His  verse  is  noted  for  its 
perfect  form  and  melody.  "The  Idylls  of  the  King,"  "The 
Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade  "  and  the  songs  from  "  The  Princess  " 
are  among  his  most  famous  poems. 


1 88  BOOK  FIVE 

HARE-AND-HOUNDS   AT   RUGBY. 

THOMAS   HUGHES. 

The  only  incident  worth  recording  here,  however, 
was  the  first  run  at  hare-and-hounds.  On  the  last 
Tuesday  but  one  of  the  half-year,  Tom  was  passing 
through  the  hall  after  dinner,  when  he  was  hailed 
with  shouts  from  Tadpole  and  several  other  boys. 
They  were  seated  at  one  of  the  long  tables;  the 
chorus  of  their  shouts  was,  "  Come  and  help  us  tear 
up  scent." 

Tom  approached  the  table  in  obedience  to  the 
summons,  always  ready  to  help,  and  found  the  party 
engaged  in  tearing  up  old  newspapers,  copy-books,' 
and  magazines,  into  small  pieces,  with  which  they 
were  filling  four  large  canvas  bags. 

"  It's  the  turn  of  our  house  to  find  scent  for  Big- 
side  hare-and-hounds,"  exclaimed  Tadpole.  "  Tear 
away ;  there's  no  time  to  lose." 

"  I  think  it's  a  great  shame,"  said  another  small 
boy,  "  to  have  such  a  hard  run  for  the  last  day." 

"  Which  run  is  it  ?  "  said  Tadpole. 

"  Oh,  the  Barby  run,  I  hear,"  answered  the  other. 
"  Nine  miles  at  least,  and  hard  ground ;  no  chance 
of  getting  in  at  the  finish  unless  you're  a  first-rate 
runner." 


HARE-AND-HOUNDS   AT   RUGBY  189 

"  Well,  I'm  going  to  have  a  try,"  said  Tadpole. 

"  I  should  like  to  try,  too,"  said  Tom. 

"  Well,  then,  leave  your  waistcoat  behind,  and 
listen  at  the  door,  after  roll-call,  and  you'll  hear 
where  the  meet  is." 

After  roll-call,  sure  enough,  there  were  two  boys 
at  the  door,  calling  out,  "  Big-side  hare-and-hounds 
meet  at  White  Hall."  And  Tom,  having  girded 
himself  with  leather  strap,  and  left  all  superfluous 
clothing  behind,  set  off  for  White  Hall,  an  old 
gable-ended  house  some  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the 
town,  with  East,  whom  he  had  persuaded  to  join. 

At  the  meet  they  found  some  forty  or  fifty  boys ; 
and  Tom  felt  sure,  from  having  seen  many  of  them 
run  at  football,  that  he  and  East  were  more  likely  to 
get  in  than  they. 

After  a  few  minutes'  waiting,  two  well-known 
runners,  chosen  for  the  hares,  buckled  on  the  four 
bags  filled  with  scent,  compared  their  watches  with 
those  of  young  Brooke  and  Thorne,  and  started  cff 
at  a  long,  swinging  trot  across  the  fields  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Barby. 

Then  the  hounds  clustered  round  Thorne,  who 
explained  shortly,  "  They're  to  have  six  minutes' 
law.  We  run  into  the  Cock,  and  every  one  who 
comes  in  within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  of  the  hares 
will  be  counted,  if  he  has  been  round  Barby  church." 


i9o  BOOK   FIVE 

Then  comes  a  pause  of  a  minute  or  so,  and  then  the 
watches  are  pocketed,  and  the  pack  is  led  through 
the  gateway  into  the  field  which  the  hares  had  first 
crossed.  Here  they  break  into  a  trot,  scattering 
over  the  field  to  find  the  first  traces  of  the  scent 
which  the  hares  throw  out  as  they  go  along. 

The  old  hounds  make  straight  for  the  likely  points, 
and  in  a  minute  a  cry  of  "forward  "  comes  from  one 
of  them,  and  the  whole  pack  quickening  their  pace 
make  for  the  spot.  The  boy  who  hit  the  scent 
first,  and  the  two  or  three  nearest  to  him,  are  over 
the  first  fence,  and  making  play  along  the  hedgerow 
in  the  long  grass  field  beyond. 

The  rest  of  the  pack  rush  at  the  gap  already 
made,  and  scramble  through,  jostling  one  another. 
"  Forward "  again,  before  they  are  half  through ; 
the  pace  quickens  into  a  sharp  run,  the  tail  hounds 
all  straining  to  get  up  with  the  lucky  leaders. 

They  are  gallant  hares,  and  the  scent  lies  thick 
right  across  another  meadow  and  into  a  ploughed 
field,  where  the  pace  begins  to  tell ;  then  over  a 
good  hedge  with  a  ditch  on  the  other  side,  and 
down  a  large  pasture  studded  with  old  thorns, 
which  slopes  down  to  the  first  brook.  The  brook 
is  a  small  one,  and  the  scent  lies  right  ahead  up  the 
opposite  slope,  and  as  thick  as  ever.  Many  a 
youngster  now  begins  to  drag  his  legs  heavily,  and 


HARE-AND-HOUNDS   AT   RUGBY  191 

feel  his  heart  beat  like  a  hammer,  and  those  far- 
thest behind  think  that  after  all  it  isn't  worth  while 
to  keep  it  up. 

Tom,  East,  and  Tadpole  had  a  good  start,  and  are 
well  along  for  such  young  hands.  After  rising  the 
slope  and  crossing  the  next  field,  they  find  them- 
selves up  with  the  leading  hounds,  who  have  over- 
run the  scent  and  are  trying  back.  They  have 
come  a  mile  and  a  half  in  about  eleven  minutes,  a 
pace  which  shows  that  it  is  the  last  day.  Only 
about  twenty-five  of  the  original  starters  show  here, 
the  rest  having  already  given  in.  The  leaders  are 
busy  making  casts  into  the  fields  on  the  left  and 
right,  and  the  others  get  their  second  winds. 

Then  comes  the  cry  of  "  forward "  again  from 
young  Brooke,  at  the  extreme  left,  and  the  pack 
settles  down  to  work  again  steadily  and  doggedly, 
the  whole  keeping  pretty  well  together.  The  scent, 
though  still  good,  is  not  so  thick.  There  is  no  need 
of  that,  for  in  this  part  of  the  run  every  one  knows 
the  line  which  must  be  taken,  and  so  there  are  no 
casts  to  be  made,  but  good  downright  running  and 
fencing  to  be  done. 

All  who  are  now  up  mean  coming  in,  and  they 
come  to  the  foot  of  Barby  Hill  without  losing  more 
than  two  or  three  more  of  the  pack.  This  last 
straight  two  miles  and  a  half  is  always  a  vantage- 


1 92  BOOK   FIVE 

ground  for  the  hounds,  and  the  hares  know  it  well. 
They  are  generally  viewed  on  the  side  of  Barby 
Hill,  and  all  eyes  are  on  the  lookout  for  them  to-day. 
But  not  a  sign  of  them  appears,  so  now  will  be  the 
hard  work  for  the  hounds,  and  there  is  nothing  for 
it  but  to  cast  about  for  the  scent,  for  it  is  the 
hares'  turn,  and  they  may  baffle  the  pack  dreadfully 
in  the  next  two  miles. 

Ill  fares  it  now  with  our  youngsters  that  they 
follow  young  Brooke;  for  he  takes  the  wide  casts 
round  to  the  left,  conscious  of  his  own  powers,  and 
loving  the  hard  work.  However,  they  struggle 
after  him,  sobbing  and  plunging  along,  Tom  and 
East  pretty  close,  and  Tadpole  some  thirty  yards 
behind. 

Now  comes  a  brook,  with  stiff  clay  banks,  from 
which  they  can  hardly  drag  their  legs ;  and  they 
hear  faint  cries  for  help  from  the  wretched  Tadpole, 
who  has  fairly  stuck  fast.  But  they  have  too  little 
run  left  in  themselves  to  pull  up  for  their  own 
brothers.  Three  fields  more,  and  another  check, 
and  then  "  forward  "  called  away  to  the  extreme 
right. 

The  two  boys'  souls  die  within  them.  They  can 
never  do  it.  Young  Brooke  thinks  so,  too,  and 
says  kindly,  "You'll  cross  a  lane  after  next  field; 
keep  down  it,  and  you'll  hit  the  Dunchurch-road." 


HARE-AND-HOUNDS   AT    RUGBY  193 

Then  he  steams  away  for  the  run  in,  in  which  he's 
sure  to  be  first,  as  if  he  were  just  starting.  They 
struggle  on  across  the  next  field,  the  "forwards" 
getting  fainter  and  fainter,  and  then  ceasing.  The 
whole  hunt  is  out  of  ear-shot,  and  all  hope  of  com- 
ing in  is  over. 

u  Hang  it  all ! "  broke  out  East,  as  soon  as  he 
had  wind  enough,  pulling  off  his  hat  and  mopping 
his  face,  all  spattered  with  dirt  and  lined  with 
sweat,  from  which  went  up  a  thick  steam  into  the 
still,  cold  air.  "  I  told  you  how  it  would  be.  What 
a  thick  I  was  to  come !  Here  we  are  dead  beat,  and 
yet  I  know  we're  close  to  the  run  in,  if  we  knew  the 
country." 

"  Well,"  said  Tom,  mopping  away,  and  gulping 
down  his  disappointment,  "  it  can't  be  helped.  We 
did  our  best,  anyhow.  Hadn't  we  better  find  this 
lane,  and  go  down  it  as  young  Brooke  told  us  ? " 

"  I  suppose  so  —  nothing  else  for  it,"  grunted 
East.  "  If  ever  I  go  out  last  day  again,"  growl  — 
growl  —  growl. 

So  they  turned  back  slowly  and  sorrowfully,  and 
found  the  lane,  and  went  limping  down  it,  plashing 
in  the  cold,  puddly  ruts,  and  beginning  to  feel  how 
the  run  had  taken  the  heart  out  of  them.  The 
evening  closed  in  fast,  and  clouded  over,  dark,  cold, 
and  dreary. 


i94  BOOK   FIVE 

"  I  say,  it  must  be  locking-up,  I  should  think," 
remarked  East,  breaking  the  silence ;  "  it's  so  dark." 

"  What  if  we're  late  ?  "  said  Tom. 

"  No  tea,  and  sent  up  to  the  Doctor,"  answered 
East. 

The  thought  didn't  add  to  their  cheerfulness. 
Presently  a  faint  halloo  was  heard  from  an  adjoin- 
ing field.  They  answered  it  and  stopped,  hoping 
for  some  competent  rustic  to  guide  them,  when 
over  a  gate  some  twenty  yards  ahead  crawled  the 
wretched  Tadpole,  in  a  state  of  collapse.  He  had 
lost  a  shoe  in  the  brook,  and  been  groping  after  it 
up  to  his  elbows  on  the  stiff,  wet  clay,  and  a  more 
miserable  creature  in  the  shape  of  boy  seldom  has 
been  seen. 

The  sight  of  him,  notwithstanding,  cheered  them, 
for  he  was  some  degree  more  wretched  than  they. 
They  also  cheered  him,  as  he  was  now  no  longer 
under  the  dread  of  passing  his  night  alone  in  the 
fields.  And  so  in  better  heart,  the  three  plashed 
painfully  down  the  never  ending  lane.  At  last  it 
widened,  just  as  utter  darkness  set  in,  and  they 
came  out  on  to  a  turnpike  road,  and  there  paused 
bewildered,  for  they  had  lost  all  bearings,  and  knew 
not  whether  to  turn  to  the  right  or  left. 

Luckily  for  them  they  had  not  to  decide,  for  lum- 
bering along  the  road,  with  one  lamp  lighted,  and 


HARE-AND-HOUNDS  AT   RUGBY  • 


195 


two  spavined  horses  in  the  shafts,  came  a  heavy 
coach,  which  after  a  moment's  suspense  they  recog- 
nized as  the  Oxford  coach,  the  redoubtable  Pig  and 
Whistle. 

It  lumbered  slowly  up,  and  the  boys,  mustering 
their  last  run,  caught  it  as  it  passed,  and  began 
scrambling  up  behind,  in  which  exploit  East  missed 
his  footing  and  fell  flat  on  his  nose  along  the  road. 
Then  the  others  hailed  the  old  scarecrow  of  a  coach- 
man, who  pulled  up  and  agreed  to  take  them  in  for 
a  shilling.  So  there  they  sat  on  the  back  seat,  drub- 
bing with  their  heels,  and  their  teeth  chattering  with 
cold,  and  jogged  into  Rugby  some  forty  minutes 
after  locking-up. 


in'ci  dent,  that  which  takes  place, 
su  per'flu  ous,  more  than  is  needed, 
hedge'row,  a  row  of  shrubs  along  the 
edge  of  a  field. 


COl  lapse',  a  breaking  down, 
re  doubt/a  ble,  to  be  dreaded, 
com'petent   rus'tic,    a    countryman 
who  knew  the  road. 


Thomas  Hughes  (1 823-1 896)  was  an  English  lawyer.  He  was 
much  interested  in  helping  to  better  the  lot  of  workingmen.  His 
fame  as  an  author  is  due  to  his  "Tom  Brown's  School  Days,"  — 
an  account  of  life  at  Rugby,  one  of  the  great  boys'  schools  of 
England  — and  "Tom  Brown  at  Oxford." 


The  difference  between  one  boy  and  another  is 
not  so  much  in  talent  as  in  energy. 

—  Dr.  Thomas  Arnold  of  Rugby. 


196  #  BOOK   FIVE 


THE  BLUEBIRD. 

JOHN  BURROUGHS. 

When  Nature  made  the  bluebird  she  wished  to 
make  the  sky  and  earth  friends.  So  she  gave  him 
the  color  of  the  one  on  his  back,  and  the  hue  of  the 
other  on  his  breast.  She  ordered  that  his  appear- 
ance in  spring  should  tell  that  the  strife  and  war 
between  earth  and  sky  was  at  an  end. 

He  is  the  peace  bringer;  in  him  the  earth  and 
sky  shake  hands  and  are  fast  friends.  He  means 
the  furrow  and  the  warmth ;  he  means  all  the  soft, 
wooing  influences  of  the  spring  on  the  one  hand, 
and  the  retreating  footsteps  of  winter  on  the  other. 
In  New  York  and  in  New  England  the  sap  starts 
up  in  the  sugar-maple  the  very  day  the  bluebird 
arrives,  and  sugar-making  begins  forthwith. 

The  bluebird  is  the  first  bit  of  color  that  cheers 
our  northern  landscape.  The  other  birds  that  ar- 
rive about  the  same  time  —  the  sparrow,  the  robin, 
the  phcebe  bird,  are  clad  in  neutral  tints:  gray, 
brown,  or  russet ;  but  the  bluebird  brings  one  of  the 
primary  hues,  and  the  divinest  of  them  all. 

The  bluebird  usually  builds  its  nest  in  a  hole  in 
a  stump  or  stub,  or  in  an  old  cavity  dug  out  by  a 
woodpecker,  when  such  can   be  had;  but  its  first 


THE    BLUEBIRD  197 

impulse  seems  to  be  to  start  in  the  world  in  much 
more  style,  and  the  happy  pair  make  a  great  show  of 
house-hunting  about  the  farm  buildings.  Now  they 
think  they  will  take  a  dove-cot,  then  they  will  dis- 
cuss a  last  year's  swallow's  nest. 

We  hear  them  announce  with  much  flourish  and 
flutter  that  they  have  taken  the  wren's  house,  or  the 
tenement  of  the  purple  martin.  Finally  nature 
becomes  too  urgent,  when  all  this  pretty  make- 
believe  ceases.  Most  of  them  settle  back  upon 
the  old  family  stumps  and  knot-holes  in  remote 
fields  and  go  to  work  in  earnest. 

It  is  very  pretty  to  watch  them  build  a  nest. 
The  male  is  very  active  in  hunting  out  a  place  and 
exploring  the  boxes  and  cavities.  He  seems  to  have 
no  choice  in  the  matter,  and  is  anxious  only  to 
please  and  encourage  his  mate  —  who  knows  what 
will  do  and  what  will. not. 

After  she  has  suited  herself,  away  the  two  go  in 
search  of  material  for  the  nest.  The  male  acts  as 
guard,  flying  ahead  and  above  the  female.  She 
brings  all  the  material  and  does  all  the  work  of 
building.  He  looks  on  and  encourages  her  with 
gesture  and  song.  She  enters  the  nest  with  her 
bit  of  dry  grass  or  straw,  and  having  placed  it 
to  her  notion,  withdraws  and  waits  near  by  while 
he  goes  in  and  looks  it  over.     On  coming  out  he 


198  BOOK   FIVE 

exclaims  very  plainly,  "  Excellent !  excellent !  "  and 
away  the  two  go  again  for  more  material. 


neu'tral,  dull;   of  no  particular  color. 

ten'e  ment,  dwelling. 

im'pulse,  a  prompting  to  do  something. 


ur'gent,  pressing;  calling  for  imme- 
diate attention. 
ges'ture,  motion  of  body  or  limbs. 


John  Burroughs  is  a  most  careful  observer  of  nature  and  a 
charming  writer,  whose  books  upon  out-of-door  life  are  deservedly 
popular.  

THE   GREENWOOD   TREE. 

WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE. 

Under  the  greenwood  tree 

Who  loves  to  lie  with  me, 

And  turn  his  merry  note 

Unto  the  sweet  bird's  throat, 
Come  hither,  come  hither,  come  hither; 

Here  shall  he  see 

No  enemy, 
But  winter  and  rough  weather. 

Who  doth  ambition  shun, 
And  loves  to  live  in  the  sun, 
Seeking  the  food  he  eats, 
And  pleased  with  what  he  gets, 

Come  hither,  come  hither,  come  hither; 
Here  shall  he  see 
No  enemy, 

But  winter  and  rough  weather. 


"THE  GREENWOOD  TREE" 


2oo  BOOK   FIVE 

GEORGE  WASHINGTON. 

THOMAS  WENTWORTH  HIGGINSON. 

It  is  often  said  that  boys  and  girls  of  the  present 
day  feel  a  little  nearer  to  George  Washington  than 
used  to  be  the  case;  that  they  like  him  better 
and  are  much  less  afraid  of  him.  The  reason  for 
this  perhaps  is  that  everybody  used  to  think  of 
him  first  as  General,  and  afterward  as  the  Father 
of  his  Country,  so  that  they  could  never  quite  love 
him  as  if  he  were  their  own  father. 

All  the  descriptions  made  him  appear  rather 
grave  and  stiff,  and  none  of  his  early  biographers 
let  us  believe  that  he  could  ever  laugh.  You  may 
read  through  half  a  dozen  famous  biographies  of  him 
without  ever  finding  such  a  thing  as  laughter  men- 
tioned, and  it  was  not  until  the  cheerful  Washing- 
ton Irving  wrote  his  life  that  so  important  a  fact 
was  really  admitted.  Even  Irving  felt  obliged  to 
hide  it  away  in  small  type  in  a  note  to  one  of  his 
pages,  but  there  it  forever  stands. 

It  appears  that  in  camp  a  young  officer  told 
a  story  which  the  commander-in-chief  found  so 
amusing  that  he  not  only  laughed,  but  threw  him- 
self on  the  ground  and  rolled  over  and  over  to 
get  to  the  end  of  his  laughter.     Fancy  the  picture ! 


GEORGE   WASHINGTON  201 

The  Father  of  his  Country,  a  man  six  feet  and 
some  inches  tall,  rolling  over  and  over  in  the  at- 
tempt to  stop  laughing !  But  the  use  of  the  picture 
is  that  it  has  saved  for  us  the  human  Washington. 
We  once  thought  of  him  as  a  stiff  and  formal 
image,  or  what  is  called  a  lay-figure.  Now  we 
think  of  him  as  a  man. 

On  a  wide  Virginia  plantation,  with  graceful 
trees  around  the  house,  and  brown  tobacco  fields 
stretching  away  into  the  distance,  in  the  year 
1732,  George  Washington  was  born.  The  life  in 
Virginia  seems  to  have  been  very  peaceful  and 
attractive  in  those  early  days.  Each  plantation 
was  a  little  village  in  itself,  usually  standing  remote 
from  any  other  settlement  for  many  miles  in  both 
directions.  Open  house  was  the  order  of  the  day, 
the  Lord  of  the  Manor  welcoming  with  ready  hospi- 
tality any  transient  visitor  who  might  be  passing. 

There  were  great  evils  in  the  system  of  slavery,  as 
all  now  agree,  but  on  prosperous  and  well-managed 
plantations,  men  did  not  see  them ;  and  on  such 
plantations  the  home  life  was  most  attractive.  The 
effects  of  this  early  mode  of  living  have  descended 
through  succeeding  generations,  and  Virginians  of 
the  present  day  are  as  full  of  cordial  hospitality  and 
pleasant  manners  as  their  ancestors;  although  the 
whole  condition  of  society  among  them  has  changed 


202  BOOK   FIVE 

Among  such  people  George  Washington  grew 
up.  He  was  always  a  thoughtful  boy,  and  his 
straightforward  bearing,  his  honesty  and  simplicity 
of  manner  inspired  confidence  in  those  who  knew 
him.  Tall  and  strongly  built,  and  fond  of  out-door 
pursuits  and  athletics  as  he  was,  he  yet  found  time 
for  much  quiet  study  and  earnest  thought.  Under 
a  calm  and  grave  appearance,  there  was  an  impetu- 
ous and  fiery  temper.  Yet  from  the  beginning,  he 
held  it  so  completely  in  check  that  we  hardly  ever 
hear  that  his  temper  got  the  upper  hand  of  the  man. 
And  these  few  outbreaks  were  never  in  his  own  de- 
fence, but  from  anger  at  some  neglected  duty,  or 
wrong  done  to  the  country  and  the  people. 

From  the  first  public  position  which  Washington 
held  —  that  of  delegate  sent  out  by  the  Ohio  Com- 
pany to  confer  with  the  French  on  the  Indian  diffi- 
culties—  to  the  time  when  he  took  command  of  the 
American  army,  and  finally  became  President  of  the 
United  States,  he  never  faltered  in  his  trust.  There 
seemed  to  have  been  born  in  him  a  remarkable  fac- 
ulty for  managing  men  and  for  taking  the  lead  wher- 
ever he  went.  He  had  self-reliance  and  confidence, 
which,  while  leaving  him  a  modest  opinion  of  him- 
self and  his  deeds,  made  him  able  to  accomplish  with 
ease  many  things  in  which  those  around  him  had 
failed,  or  would  have  failed  if  they  had  tried  them. 


GEORGE   WASHINGTON  203 

He  was  very  conscientious  and  very  methodical ; 
qualities  not  always  combined  with  such  promptness 
and  energy  as  he  had.  His  diaries  and  account- 
books  show  that  he  was  as  particular  and  careful 
about  small  affairs  as  about  large  ones.  We  know 
from  his  own  note-books  all  that  took  place  on  his 
farm,  and  all  the  dangers  and  excitements  of  many 
of  his  excursions  for  hunting  purposes  or  in  the 
French  and  Indian  wars. 

He  was  also  very  quick  in  separating  right  from 
wrong.  He  was  very  obedient  in  childhood,  but  when 
he  became  a  man,  he  thought  for  himself.  For  in- 
stance, when  he  was  a  small  boy,  he  wished,  like 
many  other  boys,  to  enter  the  navy.  But  he  obeyed 
his  mother  and  remained  at  home.  Later,  when 
he  was  offered  a  dangerous  position  with  General 
Braddock  upon  his  French  and  Indian  campaign, 
he  thought  it  his  duty  to  go,  and  went.  In  just 
the  same  way,  when  the  time  came,  he  accepted 
his  appointment  to  command  the  Army  of  the 
Revolution. 

After  the  first  fights  at  Lexington  and  Concord, 
(April  19,  1775),  the  Continental  Congress  met  and 
took  up  the  cause  of  the  New  England  colonists  as 
being  that  of  all  the  young  nation.  Washington  was 
the  only  well-known  American  who  had  held  military 
command,  and  when  John  Adams  proposed  that  he 


204  BOOK   FIVE 

should  be  the  commander,  everybody  was  pleased. 
This  was  on  June  15,  1775,  and  he  took  command  at 
Cambridge  on  July  3.  The  battle  of  Bunker  Hill 
had  happened  in  the  meantime,  and  when  that  took 
place,  Washington  had  exclaimed  "  The  liberties  of 
America  are  safe." 

But  he  found  his  army  needing  a  great  deal  of 
preparation  for  active  service.  Few  of  the  men  had 
received  anything  like  regular  drill,  and  he  himself 
wrote  they  had  "  very  little  discipline,  order,  or  gov- 
ernment." Few  had  any  uniform  and  many  were 
in  their  shirt-sleeves.  They  were  always  wishing 
to  go  home  and  see  their  families,  as  was  natural 
enough.  Their  guns  were  of  all  patterns  and  sizes, 
and  they  had  only  seven  cartridges  to  a  man ;  and 
were  very  poorly  supplied  with  cannon  until  they 
captured  them  from  the  British.  But  under  Wash- 
ington's leadership  these  raw  troops  at  last  tri- 
umphed; so  that  the  enemy  sailed  away  and 
evacuated  Boston  after  a  siege  of  about  a  year. 

This  was  the  time  which  first  showed  the  kind  of 
man  that  Washington  really  was ;  but  afterward  came 
a  long  war,  and  during  a  part  of  this  the  prospect  for 
the  new  nation  looked  very  dim,  though  their  leader 
always  kept  his  courage.  At  last  came  an  alliance 
with  France  and  a  French  army  of  six  thousand 
men  under  Rochambeau  landed  at  Newport,  Rhode 


GEORGE   WASHINGTON  205 

Island,  in  1780;  and  a  year  after,  on  October  19, 
1 78 1,  the  British  army  under  Cornwallis  surren- 
dered. 

Washington  loved  his  home  life  at  Mount  Vernon 
dearly,  and  seems  to  have  longed  for  its  peace  and 
quiet  all  through  the  war  of  the  Revolution.  When 
that  war  was  over,  he  was  very  happy  in  the  thought 
that  he  had  gone  back  to  Mount  Vernon  for  the 
remainder  of  his  days.  We  can  plainly  see  by  his 
letters  and  journals  that  he  would  gladly  have 
escaped  being  made  President.  His  inauguration 
was  to  take  place  in  New  York,  and  as  he  went 
thither  from  his  home  in  Virginia,  there  were  pro- 
cessions and  triumphal  greetings  all  the  way.  The 
ceremony  itself  took  place  on  April  30,  1789. 

The  actual  ceremony  would  seem  to  us  at  this 
day  very  formal  and  grand.  Many  people  feared, 
at  that  time,  that  the  new  government  would  not 
command  proper  respect  among  the  kings  and 
queens  of  Europe ;  and  they  wished,  above  all  things, 
to  have  it  seem  dignified  and  imposing.  When  the 
official  name  of  the  President  was  to  be  fixed  upon, 
Washington  wished  to  be  called  by  the  epithet  "  His 
High  Mightiness,"  the  words  used  in  Holland, 
which  was  then  a  republic ;  but  Congress  rejected 
the  words  and  gave  him  the  more  modest  title  "  His 
Excellency." 


206  BOOK   FIVE 

Again,  Washington  had  a  "  state  coach  "  built,  of 
which  the  body  was  shaped  like  a  hemisphere, 
cream-colored,  bordered  with  flowers  around  the 
panels,  and  ornamented  with  figures  of  Cupids  hold- 
ing wreaths  of  flowers.  On  great  occasions  this 
coach  was  drawn  by  six  horses,  on  common  occa- 
sions by  four,  and  on  Sundays  by  two;  the  driver 
and  postilions  wearing  liveries  of  white  and  scarlet. 
In  the  same  spirit,  the  birthday  of  the  President 
was  celebrated  by  dinners  and  public  meetings  in 
all  large  towns,  just  as  the  King's  birthday  was 
celebrated  in  England;  and  on  these  occasions 
odes  were  addressed  to  the  President  by  the  local 
poets. 

All  this  was  approved  by  most  people  as  adding 
dignity  to  the  new  republic.  Others,  however, 
thought  there  was  too  much  of  this,  and  regarded 
Washington  as  too  showy  and  ostentatious.  Just 
as  he,  when  a  boy,  used  to  begin  his  letters  to  his 
mother  with  the  words  "  Honored  Madam,"  instead 
of  "  Dear  mother,"  so  he  approached  all  public 
duties  in  what  would  now  seem  a  very  elaborate  and 
formal  way.  But  the  essential  fact  was  that  the 
duties  were  well  done. 

As  President  of  the  United  States,  Washington 
met,  like  all  others,  with  criticism,  just  or  unjust; 
but  all  now  admit  the  purity  and  elevation  of  his 


GEORGE   WASHINGTON 


207 


spirit  and  the  wisdom  of  his  general  policy.  After 
his  two  terms  of  office  had  expired,  he  had  been  at 
Mount  Vernon  for  little  more  than  a  year  before  his 
quiet  was  again  invaded  (July,  1798)  by  the  rumors 
of  an  expected  war  with  France,  and  he  was  nomi- 
nated Commander-in-Chief  of  the  forces.  He  did 
not  believe  there  would  be  war,  but  he  accepted 
the  appointment,  true  to  his  country  to  the  last. 
There  was  no  war. 

On  December  14,  1799,  this  strong,  brave  man 
died  at  his  beloved  Mount  Vernon,  where  so  few 
years  of  his  home-loving  and  peace-loving  life  had, 
after  all,  been  spent.  Those  who  float  down  the 
Potomac  and  look  up  at  the  fine  old  house  where 
George  Washington  died,  may  well  remember  the 
resolutions  passed,  after  his  death,  by  the  American 
Congress,  declaring  that  he  was  "  first  in  war,  first 
in  peace,  and  first  in  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen." 


bi  og'ra  pher,  one  who  writes  the  life 

of  another. 
tran'sient,  staying  only  a  short  time. 
im  pet'u  ous,  hasty,  rash, 
del'e  gate,  one  who  acts  for  others. 
con  sci  en'tious,  faithful  to  duty. 
e  vac'u  ate,  to  move  out  from. 


in  au  gu  ra'tion,  introducing  into  an 

office  with  ceremonies. 
ep'i  thet,  name, 
postil'ion,   one  who    rides  a  horse 

that  draws  a  coach. 
liv'er  y,  a  uniform  worn  by  servants, 
os  ten  ta'tious,  fond  of  show. 


Thomas  Wentworth  Higginson  was  born  in  Cambridge,  Mass., 
in  1823.  He  has  written  stories  and  poems,  as  well  as  history 
and  biography. 


208  BOOK   FIVE 

MARCH. 

WILLIAM  WORDSWORTH. 

The  cock  is  crowing, 

The  stream  is  flowing, 

The  small  birds  twitter, 

The  lake  doth  glitter, 
The  green  field  sleeps  in  the  sun ; 

The  oldest  and  youngest 

Are  at  work  with  the  strongest ; 

The  cattle  are  grazing, 

Their  heads  never  raising ; 
There  are  forty  feeding  like  one. 

Like  an  army  defeated, 

The  snow  hath  retreated, 

And  now  doth  fare  ill 

On  the  top  of  the  bare  hill ; 
The  ploughboy  is  whooping  —  anon  —  anon ! 

There's  joy  on  the  mountains ; 

There's  life  in  the  fountains ; 

Small  clouds  are  sailing, 

Blue  sky  prevailing ; 
The  rain  is  over  and  gone. 

William  Wordsworth  (i 770-1850)  was  one  of  the  greatest 
English  poets.  "  Lucy  Gray,"  "  We  are  Seven,"  "  The  Pet  Lamb," 
and  "  Daffodils,"  are  poems  that  every  boy  and  girl  should  read. 


THE   DOG   THAT   LIED  209 

THE  DOG   THAT   LIED. 

JEAN  AICARD. 

I  had  trusted  him  fully  for  a  long  time  —  the 
fact  is,  we  loved  each  other.  He  was  a  shepherd 
dog,  snow-white,  with  a  brown  marking  on  the  top 
of  his  head.  I  called  him  Pierrot  (Per'ro').  He 
may  have  been  the  son  of  a  circus  dog;  at  any 
rate,  he  could  climb  trees  and  ladders,  and  perform 
other  odd  tricks.  He  was  very  fond  of  a  little 
wooden  ball  about  the  size  of  a  billiard-ball.  One 
day  he  brought  it  to  me,  and  sitting  on  his 
haunches  said  quite  plainly :  "  Throw  it  away 
out  on  the  grass.     I'll  find  it,  —  see  if  I  don't  !  " 

I  did  as  he  wanted,  and  he  succeeded  perfectly. 
From  that  time  on  he  became  positively  tiresome, 
for  he  was  forever  saying,  "  Let's  have  a  game  of 
ball !  "  Every  time  he  had  a  chance  he  would  come 
rushing  into  my  study  with  his  ball  in  his  mouth, 
and  standing  on  his  hind  legs,  with  his  forepaws 
thrust  into  the  midst  of  my  papers  and  open  books, 
he  would  exclaim :  — 

"  Look,  here's  the  ball !  Throw  it  out  of  the 
window,  and  I  will  rush  after  it.  It's  great  fun  — 
see  if  it  isn't !  —  much  more  amusing  than  your  old 
novels  and  plays  and  newspapers." 


2io  BOOK   FIVE 

Out  the  ball  would  seem  to  go ;  out  Pierrot  would 
rush,  but,  poor  fellow,  only  to  be  deceived.  For  no 
sooner  was  he  outside,  than  the  ball  would  be  laid 
on  the  table  again  to  serve  as  a  paper-weight. 
Pierrot,  out  on  the  lawn,  would  look  and  look,  then, 
coming  back  under  the  window,  he  would  cry  out:  — 

"  I  say  there,  you  literary  fellow,  this  is  a  little 
too  much  !  I  can't  find  the  ball  at  all.  The  fact  is, 
there's  nothing  there.  And  if  a  passer-by  hasn't 
taken  it,  then  you  have  it,  as  sure  as  can  be." 

He  would  come  upstairs  again,  poke  his  nose 
into  my  coat  pockets,  under  the  furniture,  into  the 
half-open  drawers,  and  then,  all  of  a  sudden,  with 
the  air  of  a  man  who  is  struck  with  a  bright  idea, 
he  would  say  playfully,  "  I'll  wager  that's  the  ball 
there  on  the  table." 

Of  course  I  took  good  care  not  to  wager  with 
him,  for  it  was  in  truth  the  ball.  To  hide  it  again 
I  had  to  be  quick,  and  then  good-by  to  work! 
Those  were  lively  times.  Pierrot  would  leap  after 
the  ball,  bound  to  have  it  at  any  cost.  He  would 
follow  my  slightest  movements  with  the  most  agile 
counter-motions,  all  the  time  on  a  broad  smile  — 
smiling  in  the  only  way  a  dog  can ;  that  is  to  say 
constantly  wagging  his  tail.  Withal  he  was  a  good 
watch-dog,  and  that's  worth  a  great  deal  in  the 
country. 


THE   DOG   THAT   LIED  211 

He  often  made  me  think  of  those  men  changed 
by  magic  into  dogs,  of  whom  we  read  in  fairy  tales. 
The  glance  of  his  eye  had  a  tender,  deep,  and  be- 
seeching quality,  which  seemed  to  say  humbly:  — 

"  Don't  ask  too  much  of  me.  I  am  only  what 
you  see  —  a  dog  with  four  paws ;  but  my  heart  is 
a  human  heart,  a  better  one,  indeed,  than  most 
men  possess.  Adversity  has  taught  me  much;  I 
have  suffered  much.  I  suffer  even  at  this  moment, 
because  I  am  not  able  to  express  to  you,  in  words 
like  your  own,  my  loyalty  and  affection.  Yes,  I 
am  devoted  to  you.  I  love  you  with  the  faithful 
love  of  a  dog.  I  would  die  for  you  if  necessary. 
Your  property  is  my  sacred  trust.  If  anybody 
meddles  with  it,  let  him  look  out  for  himself !  " 

But  after  all,  we  quarrelled  one  day,  and  it  was 
a  bitter  disappointment  for  me.  Those  who  put 
their  trust  in  dogs  will  understand  my  feelings. 
This  is  the  way  it  happened. 

The  cook  had  killed  two  pigeons. 

"  I  will  serve  them  with  peas,"  she  said  to  her- 
self. 

She  went  into  the  storeroom  to  get  a  basket 
into  which  to  put  the  feathers  as  she  plucked  the 
pigeons.  When  she  came  back  into  the  kitchen 
she  cried  out  in  alarm.  One  of  her  pigeons  was 
gone,  and  yet  she  hadn't  been   out  of  the   room 


2i2  BOOK   FIVE 

more  than  two  seconds.  A  tramp  going  by  had 
undoubtedly  put  his  arm  through  the  open  win- 
dow and  stolen  the  bird.  She  rushed  out  to  cap- 
ture the  tramp.     Not  a  soul  to  be  seen ! 

Then  naturally  she  thought  to  herself,  "  The 
dog ! "  But,  seized  at  once  with  remorse,  she 
thought,  "  What  a  shame  to  suspect  Pierrot !  He's 
never  stolen  a  mouthful.  Why,  he'd  stand  watch 
all  day  over  a  leg  of  mutton  without  smelling  of 
it,  even  if  he  were  hungry.  Moreover,  there  he  is, 
still  in  the  kitchen,  lazily  sitting  on  his  haunches, 
with  half-closed  eyes,  yawning  from  time  to  time. 
No,  he's  not  thinking  about  my  pigeons  ! " 

True  enough ;  there  was  Pierrot,  half  dozing,  and 
seeming  to  have  no  interest  in  anything  going  on 
about  him.     I  was  called. 

"  Pierrot ! " 

He  turned  his  sleepy  eyes  toward  me  as  if  saying: 
"  Eh !  what  did  you  say,  master  ?  I  was  so  comfort- 
able.    I  was  just  thinking  of  the  ball." 

"I  am  of  your  opinion,  Catherine — Pierrot  did 
not  steal  your  pigeon.  If  he  had,  he  would  be  busy 
plucking  it  at  the  bottom  of  some  ditch  or  other, 
you  may  depend  upon  it." 

11  Nevertheless,  look  at  him,  sir,"  said  Catherine. 
"  That  dog  hasn't  the  look  of  an  honest  Christian." 

"  What !  would  you  say  —  " 


THE   DOG  THAT   LIED  213 

"  I  say  that  at  this  very  moment  he  has  a  guilty 
look  about  him." 

"  Look  at  me,  Pierrot !  "  I  said  sharply.  Hang- 
ing his  head  a  little,  he  at  once  replied,  in  a  some- 
what grumbling  tone :  — 

"  Would  I  be  quietly  sitting  here  if  I  had  stolen 
your  pigeon  ?  No,  certainly  not ;  I  should  be  busy 
plucking  it ! " 

He  was  serving  me  with  my  own  argument. 
This  looked  suspicious. 

"  Look  at  me,"  I  ordered  him ;  "  straight  in  the 
face,  like  this !  " 

He  put  on  an  air  of  indifference !  There  was  no 
longer  any  room  for  doubt  in  my  mind.  I  turned 
sorrowfully  to  Catherine  and  said :  — 

"  Ah,  what  a  pity !  he  is  guilty.  I  am  sure  of  it ! 
It  is  he!" 

I  am  very  serious  when  I  say  that  what  I  saw  in 
the  eyes  of  that  dog  came  upon  me  like  a  painful 
shock.  I  had  distinctly  seen  there  a  human  lie. 
He  had  tried  to  throw  a  false  appearance  of  sin- 
cerity into  his  look,  and  had  utterly  failed.  It  is 
even  impossible  for  man  to  do  it.  As  for  Pierrot, 
he  exhausted  himself  in  a  vain  effort.  The  deep 
desire  to  deceive  was,  in  his  very  eyes,  struggling 
with  the  feeble  show  of  sincerity  which  he  suc- 
ceeded in  bringing  into  play.     The  unaccomplished 


2i4  BOOK   FIVE 

lie  was  a  sadder  revelation  of  his  guilt  than  actual 
proof.  Yet,  in  order  to  be  blameless  in  the  matter, 
I  wanted  absolute  evidence. 

"  Here,"  I  said  to  the  guilty  dog,  "  you  may  have 
this,"  —  and  I  gave  him  the  odd  pigeon.  He  looked 
at  me  and  said  thoughtfully  to  himself :  — 

"  Hum !  This  is  surprising.  I  see  you  suspect 
me  and  want  to  detect  me.  If  not,  why  now  give 
me  a  pigeon?  Such  a  thing  never  happened 
before ! " 

He  took  the  pigeon  in  his  mouth,  and  then  slowly 
put  it  down  on  the  ground,  saying,  "  I'm  at  least  not 
a  fool." 

"  But  it's  yours,"  I  said ;  "  I  tell  you  it's  yours. 
Don't  you  like  pigeons?  Then  take  this  one. 
Besides,  I  had  two  of  them,  and  I  needed  two.  I 
can't  do  anything  with  one.  I  tell  you  again,  this 
is  for  you." 

I  patted  him,  thinking  all  the  while :  "  You 
wretched  thief,  you  have  betrayed  my  confidence  as 
if  you  were  a  mean  man.  You  are  a  poor  beast !  " 
adding  aloud,  "  Good  old  Pierrot,  brave  old  Pierrot, 
fine  fellow!" 

On  this  he  decided  to  accept  my  gift,  picked  up 
the  pigeon,  rose,  and  went  out  slowly,  turning  his 
face  toward  me  now  and  then,  as  if  trying  to  read  my 
real  mind.     As  soon  as  he  was  outside  I  closed  the 


THE    DOG   THAT   LIED  215 

door,  and  looked  out  through  the  glass  panels  on 
the  side  to  see  what  he  would  do. 

He  took  a  few  steps  as  if  he  proposed  to  go  to 
some  out-of-the-way  place  to  eat  his  prize.  Then 
he  stopped,  dropped  the  pigeon  on  the  ground,  and 
thought  for  a  long  time.  Several  times  he  turned 
his  deceitful  eyes  toward  the  door.  Then  he  gave 
up  trying  to  find  an  explanation  of  the  case,  con- 
tented himself  with  the  facts  as  they  were,  picked  up 
his  pigeon,  and  walked  off.  And  as  he  disappeared, 
his  drooping  tail,  which  had  expressed  timidity  and 
doubt  in  all  its  motions  during  our  talk  in  the 
kitchen,  assumed  an  air  of  more  self-respect,  as  if 
Pierrot  was  saying:  "Bah!  Take  things  as  they 
come !  Nobody  cares  for  me !  A  jolly  life's  the 
thing  t" 

I  followed  him  at  a  distance,  and  surprised  him 
in  the  act  of  digging  a  hole  in  the  ground  with  his 
paws  in  a  very  lively  fashion.  The  pigeon  I  had 
given  him  was  lying  beside  the  hole  on  which  he 
was  working.  I  dug  the  hole  a  little  deeper  and, 
behold !  there  was  the  stolen  pigeon  skilfully  hidden. 
I  was  confounded !  My  good  friend  Pierrot  not 
only  followed  the  habits  of  his  progenitors,  the  foxes 
and  wolves,  and  buried  his  food,  but  he  followed  the 
habits  of  civilized  life,  and  had  learned  to  lie! 

While  the  dog  was  watching  me  I  gathered  and 


216  BOOK   FIVE 

tied  together  some  of  the  largest  feathers  of  my  two 
pigeons,  like  a  small  feather  duster,  and  put  them 
on  my  study  table.  After  that,  whenever  Pierrot 
brought  me  his  ball,  saying  with  a  frank  and  open 
smile,  "  What !  working  ?  Stop  and  have  a  game 
with  me!"  I  would  lift  the  little  feather  duster,  and 
Pierrot  would  hang  his  head,  his  tail  would  droop 
in  shame,  the  ball  would  fall  from  his  mouth,  and  he 
would  sadly  exclaim,  "  Will  you  never  forgive  me  ? " 

"  You  do  not  love  me,"  I  said  to  him  one  morn- 
ing. "  No,  you  do  not  love  me,  for  you  lied  to  me, 
and  planned  to  do  it" 

A  kindly  voice  —  whose  it  was  or  whence  it 
came  I  do  not  know  —  replied  :  "  Yes,  he  does  love 
you,  my  friend,  and  you  still  love  him  sincerely. 
He  has  been  punished  enough  by  this  time.  Let 
bygones  be  bygones." 

I  picked  up  the  little  feather  duster,  but  this  time 
Pierrot  did  not  seem  to  fear  it.  "  You  see  it  for  the 
last  time,"  I  said;  "thus  shall  the  record  of  your 
guilt  perish ! "  and  I  threw  the  thing  into  the  fire. 
Pierrot,  gravely  seated  on  his  haunches,  watched  it 
burn.  Then,  without  any  burst  of  emotion,  without 
leaps  or  bounds,  but  simply,  nobly,  he  came  to  lick 
my  hand.  A  feeling  of  indescribable  happiness 
filled  my  heart.     It  was  the  happiness  of  forgiving. 

And  in  a  low  voice  my  dog  said  to  me :  "I  know 


THE    DOG   THAT   LIED  217 

what  you  feel ;  I  know  that  happiness,  too.  For 
how  many  things  have  I  forgiven  you  without  your 
knowing  it ! " 


lifer  a  ry,     learned;      reading     and 

writing  much, 
wa'ger,  make  a  bet. 
sin  cer'i  ty,  honesty  of  mind, 
ad  ver'sity,  ill  fortune;  trouble. 


re  morse',  sorrow  for  doing  wrong, 
rev  e  la'tion,  a  showing  or  proving, 
ab'so  lute,  complete;  perfect. 
con  found',  astonish  and  puzzle, 
e  mo'tion,  feeling. 


Jean  Aicard  is  a  French  poet  and  novelist. 


THE  OWL. 

ALFRED  TENNYSON. 


When  cats  run  home  and  light  is  come, 

And  dew  is  cold  upon  the  ground, 

And  the  far-off  stream  is  dumb, 

And  the  whirring  sail  goes  round ; 

And  the  whirring  sail  goes  round ; 

Alone  and  warming  his  five  wits, 

The  white  owl  in  the  belfry  sits. 

When  merry  milkmaids  click  the  latch, 
And  rarely  smells  the  new-mown  hay, 
And  the  cock  hath  sung  beneath  the  thatch 
Twice  or  thrice  his  roundelay ; 
Twice  or  thrice  his  roundelay ; 
Alone  and  warming  his  five  wits, 
The  white  owl  in  the  belfry  sits. 


218  BOOK   FIVE 

MAGGIE  VISITS  THE  GYPSIES. 

GEORGE  ELIOT. 
I. 

The  resolution  that  gathered  in  Maggie's  mind 
was  not  so  simple  as  that  of  going  home.  No! 
she  would  run  away  and  go  to  the  gypsies,  and 
Tom  should  never  see  her  any  more.  That  was 
by  no  means  a  new  idea  to  Maggie.  She  had 
been  so  often  told  she  was  like  a  gypsy,  and  "  half 
wild,"  that  when  she  was  miserable  it  seemed  to 
her  that  the  only  way  of  escaping  would  be  to 
live  in  a  little  brown  tent  on  the  commons.  The 
gypsies,  she  considered,  would  gladly  receive  her, 
and  pay  her  much  respect  on  account  of  her 
superior  knowledge. 

She  had  once  mentioned  her  views  on  this  point 
to  Tom,  and  suggested  that  he  should  stain  his 
face  brown,  and  they  should  run  away  together. 
But  Tom  rejected  the  scheme  with  contempt,  ob- 
serving that  gypsies  were  thieves,  and  hardly  got 
anything  to  eat,  and  had  nothing  to  drive  but  a 
donkey.  To-day,  however,  Maggie  thought  her 
misery  had  reached  a  pitch  at  which  gypsydom 
was  her  only  refuge,  and  she  rose  from  her  seat 
on  the  roots  of  the  tree  with  the  sense  that  this 


MAGGIE   VISITS  THE   GYPSIES  219 

was  a  great  crisis  in  her  life.  She  would  run 
straight  away  till  she  came  to  Dunlow  Common, 
where  there  would  certainly  be  gypsies;  and  cruel 
Tom,  and  the  rest  of  her  relations  who  found  fault 
with  her,  should  never  see  her  any  more. 

She  thought  of  her  father  as  she  ran  along,  but 
determined  that  she  would  secretly  send  him  a 
letter  by  a  small  gypsy,  who  would  run  away  with- 
out telling  where  she  was,  and  just  let  him  know 
that  she  was  well  and  happy  and  always  loved 
him  very  much. 

Maggie  soon  got  out  of  breath  with  running, 
but  by  the  time  Tom  got  to  the  pond  again  she 
was  at  the  distance  of  three  long  fields,  and  was 
on  the  edge  of  the  lane  leading  to  the  highroad. 
She  stopped  to  pant  a  little,  thinking  that  run- 
ning away  was  not  a  pleasant  thing  until  one 
had  come  quite  to  the  common  where  the  gypsies 
were. 

But  she  was  soon  aware  that  there  were  two 
men  coming  along  the  lane  in  front  of  her.  She 
had  not  thought  of  meeting  strangers,  —  she  had 
been  too  much  occupied  with  the  idea  of  her 
friends  coming  after  her.  The  strangers  were  two 
shabby-looking  men  with  flushed  faces,  one  of  them 
carrying  a  bundle  on  a  stick  over  his  shoulder.  But 
to  her  surprise  the  man  with  the  bundle  stopped, 


220  BOOK   FIVE 

and  in  a  half-whining,  half-coaxing  tone  asked  her 
if  she  had  a  copper  to  give  a  poor  man. 

Maggie  had  a  sixpence  in  her  pocket,  which  she 
immediately  drew  out  and  gave  this  poor  man 
with  a  polite  smile,  hoping  he  would  feel  very 
kindly  toward  her  as  a  generous  person.  "  That's 
the  only  money  I  have,"  she  said.  "Thank  you, 
little  miss,"  said  the  man,  in  a  less  respectful 
and  grateful  tone  than  Maggie  expected,  and  she 
even  observed  that  he  smiled  and  winked  at  his 
companion. 

She  walked  on  hurriedly,  but  was  aware  that 
the  two  men  were  standing  still,  probably  to  look 
after  her,  and  she  presently  heard  them  laughing 
loudly.  Suddenly  it  occurred  to  her  that  they 
might  think  she  was  an  idiot.  Tom  had  said  that 
her  cropped  hair  made  her  look  like  an  idiot,  and 
it  was  too  painful  an  idea  to  be  readily  forgotten. 

She  was  used  to  wandering  about  the  fields 
by  herself  and  was  less  timid  there  than  on  the 
highroad.  Sometimes  she  had  to  climb  over  high 
gates,  but  that  was  a  small  evil.  She  was  getting 
out  of  reach  very  fast,  and  she  should  probably  soon 
come  within  sight  of  Dunlow  Common,  or  at  least 
of  some  other  common,  for  she  had  heard  her  father 
say  that  you  couldn't  go  very  far  without  coming 
to  a  common.     She  hoped  so,  for  she  was  getting 


MAGGIE   VISITS  THE   GYPSIES  221 

rather  tired  and  hungry,  and  until  she  reached 
the  gypsies  there  was  no  prospect  of  bread  and 
butter. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  been  walking  a 
very  great  distance  indeed,  and  it  was  really  sur- 
prising that  the  common  did  not  come  within  sight. 
At  last,  however,  the  green  fields  came  to  an  end, 
and  Maggie  found  herself  looking  through  the  bars 
of  a  gate  into  a  lane  with  a  wide  margin  of  grass  on 
each  side  of  it.  She  had  never  seen  so  wide  a 
lane  before,  and,  without  her  knowing  why,  it  made 
her  think  that  the  common  could  not.be  far  off. 
Perhaps  it  was  because  she  saw  a  donkey  with  a  log 
to  his  foot  feeding  on  the  grassy  margin,  for  she  had 
seen  a  donkey  fastened  in  that  same  way  on  Dunlow 
Common  when  she  had  been  across  it  in  her  father's 

gig- 
She  crept  through  the  bars  and  walked  on  with 
new  spirit,  though  not  without  haunting  fears  of 
Apollyon,  and  a  highwayman  with  a  pistol,  and  a 
blinking  dwarf  in  yellow  with  a  mouth  from  ear  to 
ear,  and  other  dangers.  She  had  rushed  into  the 
adventure  of  seeking  her  unknown  kindred,  the  gyp- 
sies ;  and  now  she  was  in  this  strange  lane,  she 
hardly  dared  look  on  one  side  of  her,  lest  she  should 
see  some  dreadful  thing. 

It  was  not  without  a  leaping  of  the  heart  that  she 


222  BOOK   FIVE 

caught  sight  of  a  small  pair  of  bare  legs  sticking  up, 
feet  uppermost,  by  the  side  of  a  hillock.  She  was  too 
much  startled  at  the  first  glance  to  see  the  ragged 
clothes  and  the  dark,  shaggy  head  attached  to  them. 
It  was  a  boy  asleep,  and  Maggie  trotted  along  faster 
and  more  lightly,  lest  she  should  wake  him.  It  did 
not  occur  to  her  that  he  was  one  of  her  friends  the 
gypsies,  who  probably  would  have  very  kindly  man- 
ners. But  the  fact  was  so,  for  at  the  next  bend  in 
the  lane  Maggie  really  saw  the  little  black  tent  with 
the  blue  smoke  rising  before  it,  which  was  to  be  her 
refuge. 

She  even  saw  a  tall  female  figure  by  the  column  of 
smoke,  doubtless  the  gypsy  mother,  who  provided 
the  tea  and  other  groceries.  It  was  astonishing  to 
herself  that  she  did  not  feel  more  delighted.  But  it 
was  startling  to  find  the  gypsies  in  a  lane,  after  all, 
and  not  on  a  common ;  indeed,  it  was  rather  disap- 
pointing. She  went  on,  however,  and  thought  with 
some  comfort  that  gypsies  most  likely  knew  nothing 
about  idiots,  so  there  was  no  danger  of  their  falling 
into  the  mistake  of  setting  her  down  at  the  first 
glance  as  an  idiot. 

It  was  plain  she  had  attracted  attention.  For  the 
tall  figure,  who  proved  to  be  a  young  woman  with  a 
baby  on  her  arm,  walked  slowly  to  meet  her.  Mag- 
gie looked  up  in  the  new  face  rather  tremblingly  as 


MAGGIE   VISITS  THE   GYPSIES  22^5 

it  approached,  and  thought  that  her  aunt  and  the 
rest  were  right  when  they  called  her  a  gypsy.  For 
this  face,  with  the  bright  dark  eyes  and  the  long 
hair,  was  really  something  like  what  she  used  to  see 
in  the  glass  before  she  cut  her  hair  off. 

"  My  little  lady,  where  are  you  going  ? "  the 
gypsy  said,  in  a  coaxing  tone. 

It  was  delightful,  and  just  what  Maggie  expected. 
The  gypsies  saw  at  once  that  she  was  a  little  lady, 
and  were  prepared  to  treat  her  accordingly. 

"  Not  any  farther,"  said  Maggie,  feeling  as  if  she 
were  saying  what  she  had  rehearsed  in  a  dream. 
"  I'm  coming  to  stay  with  you,  please." 

"  That's  pretty ;  come,  then.  Why,  what  a  nice 
little  lady  you  are,  to  be  sure ! "  said  the  gypsy,  tak- 
ing her  by  the  hand.  Maggie  thought  her  very 
agreeable,  but  wished  she  had  not  been  so  dirty. 

There  was  quite  a  group  round  the  fire  when  they 
reached  it.  An  old  gypsy  woman  was  seated  on  the 
ground  nursing  her  knees,  and  poking  a  skewer  into 
the  round  kettle  that  sent  forth  an  odorous  steam. 
Two  small  shock-headed  children  were  lying  prone 
and  resting  on  their  elbows.  And  a  placid  donkey 
was  bending  his  head  over  a  tall  girl,  who,  lying  on 
her  back,  was  scratching  his  nose  and  indulging  him 
with  a  bite  of  excellent  stolen  hay. 

The  slanting  sunlight  fell  kindly  upon  them,  and 


224  BOOK   FIVE 

the  scene  was  really  very  pretty  and  comfortable, 
Maggie  thought,  only  she  hoped  they  would  soon 
set  out  the  tea-cups. 

At  last  the  old  woman  said,  "  What !  my  pretty 
lady,  are  you  come  to  stay  with  us  ?  Sit  down  and 
tell  us  where  you  come  from." 

It  was  just  like  a  story.  Maggie  liked  to  be  called 
pretty  lady  and  treated  in  this  way.  She  sat  down, 
and  said :  — 

"  I'm  come  from  home  because  I'm  unhappy,  and 
I  mean  to  be  a  gypsy.  I'll  live  with  you  if  you  like, 
and  I  can  teach  you  a  great  many  things." 

"Such  a  clever  little  lady,"  said  the  woman  with 
the  baby,  sitting  down  by  Maggie,  and  allowing  the 
baby  to  crawl.  "  And  such  a  pretty  bonnet  and 
frock,"  she  added,  taking  off  Maggie's  bonnet,  and 
looking  at  it  while  she  made  a  remark  to  the  old 
woman,  in  an  unknown  language.  The  tall  girl 
snatched  the  bonnet  and  put  it  on  her  own  head 
hind-foremost,  with  a  grin.  But  Maggie  was  deter- 
mined not  to  show  any  weakness  on  this  subject. 

"  I  don't  want  to  wear  a  bonnet,"  she  said,  "  I'd 
rather  wear  a  red  handkerchief,  like  yours  "  (looking 
at  her  friend  by  her  side), 

"Oh,  what  a  nice  little  lady!  —  and  rich,  I'm 
sure,"  said  the  old  woman.  "  Didn't  you  lrve  in  a 
beautiful  house  at  home?" 


MAGGIE   VISITS  THE   GYPSIES  225 

"  Yes,  my  home  is  pretty,  and  I'm  very  fond  of  the 
river,  where  we  go  fishing,  but  I'm  often  very  un- 
happy. I  should  have  liked  to  bring  my  books  with 
me,  but  I  came  away  in  a  hurry,  you  know.  But  I 
can  tell  you  almost  everything  there  is  in  my  books, 
I've  read  them  so  many  times,  and  that  will  amuse 
you.  And  I  can  tell  you  something  about  geog- 
raphy, too,  —  that's  about  the  world  we  live  in,  — 
very  useful  and  interesting.  Did  you  ever  hear 
about  Columbus  ? " 

Maggie's  eyes  had  begun  to  sparkle  and  her 
cheeks  to  flush,  —  she  was  really  beginning  to  in- 
struct the  gypsies,  and  gaining  great  influence  over 
them.  The  gypsies  themselves  were  not  without 
amazement  at  this  talk,  though  their  attention  was 
divided  by  the  contents  of  Maggie's  pocket,  which 
the  friend  at  her  right  hand  had  by  this  time  emptied 
without  attracting  her  notice. 

"  Is  that  where  you  live,  my  little  lady  ? "  said  the 
old  woman,  at  the  mention  of  Columbus. 

"  Oh,  no !  "  said  Maggie,  with  some  pity.  "  Co- 
lumbus was  a  very  wonderful  man,  who  found  out 
half  the  world,  and  they  put  chains  on  him  and 
treated  him  very  badly,  you  know.  It's  in  my  geog- 
raphy, but  perhaps  it's  rather  too  long  to  tell  before 
tea  —  I  want  my  tea  so."  The  last  words  burst 
from  Maggie,  in  spite  of  herself. 


226  BOOK   FIVE 

"Why,  she's  hungry,  poor  little  lady,"  said  the 
younger  woman.  "  Give  her  some  of  the  cold 
victual.  You've  been  walking  a  good  way,  I'll  be 
bound,  my  dear.     Where's  your  home  ?  " 

"  It's  Dorlcote  Mill,  a  long  way  off,"  said  Maggie. 
"  My  father  is  Mr.  Tulliver,  but  we  mustn't  let  him 
know  where  I  am,  or  he  will  take  me  home  again. 
Where  does  the  queen  of  the  gypsies  live  ? " 

"  What !  do  you  want  to  go  to  her,  my  little  lady  ? " 
said  the  younger  woman.  The  tall  girl,  meanwhile, 
was  constantly  staring  at  Maggie  and  grinning. 
Her  manners  were  certainly  not  agreeable. 

"  No,"  said  Maggie,  "  I'm  only  thinking  that  if  she 
isn't  a  very  good  queen  you  might  be  glad  when  she 
died,  and  you  could  choose  another.  If  I  were  a 
queen,  I'd  be  a  very  good  queen,  and  kind  to  every- 
body." 

"  Here's  a  bit  of  nice  victual,  then,"  said  the  old 
woman,  handing  to  Maggie  a  lump  of  dry  bread, 
which  she  had  taken  from  a  bag  of  scraps,  and  a 
piece  of  cold  bacon. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Maggie,  looking  at  the  food 
without  taking  it ;  "  but  will  you  give  me  some  bread 
and  butter  and  tea,  instead?     I  don't  like  bacon." 

"  We've  got  no  tea  or  butter,"  said  the  old  woman, 
with  something  like  a  scowl,  as  if  she  were  getting 
tired  of  coaxing. 


MAGGIE   VISITS  THE   GYPSIES  227 

"Oh,  a  little  bread  and  treacle  would  do,"  said 
Maggie. 

"We've  got  no  treacle,"  said  the  old  woman, 
crossly. 

Then  the  old  woman,  seeming  to  forget  Maggie's 
hunger,  poked  the  skewer  into  the  pot  with  new 
vigor,  and  the  younger  crept  under  the  tent  and 
reached  out  some  platters  and  spoons.  Maggie 
trembled  a  little,  and  was  afraid  the  tears  would 
come  into  her  eyes.  Meanwhile  the  tall  girl  gave  a 
shrill  cry,  and  presently  the  boy  came  running  up 
whom  Maggie  had  passed  as  he  was  sleeping,  —  a 
rough  lad  about  the  age  of  Tom.  He  stared  at 
Maggie,  and  there  ensued  much  chattering.  She 
felt  very  lonely,  and  was  quite  sure  she  should  begin 
to  cry  before  long.  The  gypsies  didn't  seem  to  mind 
her  at  all,  and  she  felt  quite  weak  among  them. 

II. 

But  the  springing  tears  were  checked  by  new 
terror,  when  two  men  came  up.  The  elder  of  the 
two  carried  a  bag,  which  he  flung  down,  addressing 
the  women  in  a  loud  and  scolding  tone,  which  they 
answered  by  a  shower  of  sauciness.  A  black  dog 
ran  barking  up  to  Maggie,  and  threw  her  into  a 
tremor  that  found  only  a  new  cause  in  the  curses 
with  which  the  younger  man  called  the  dog  off,  and 


228  BOOK   FIVE 

gave  him  a  rap  with  a  great  stick  he  held  in  his 
hand. 

Maggie  felt  that  it  was  impossible  that  she  should 
ever  be  queen  of  these  people,  or  even  give  them 
amusing  and  useful  knowledge. 

Both  the  men  now  seemed  to  be  asking  about 
Maggie,  for  they  looked  at  her.  At  last  the 
younger  woman  said  in  her  coaxing  tone,  "  This 
nice  little  lady's  come  to  live  with  us;  aren't  you 
glad?" 

"  Ay,  very  glad,"  said  the  younger  man,  who  was 
looking  at  Maggie's  silver  thimble  and  other  small 
matters  that  had  been  taken  from  her  pocket.  He 
returned  them  all,  except  the  thimble,  to  the  younger 
woman,  with  some  remark,  and  she  put  them  again 
in  Maggie's  pocket.  The  men  seated  themselves, 
and  began  to  attack  the  contents  of  the  kettle,  —  a 
stew  of  meat  and  potatoes,  —  which  had  been  taken 
off  the  fire  and  turned  out  into  a  yellow  platter. 

Maggie  began  to  think  that  Tom  must  be  right 
about  the  gypsies;  they  must  certainly  be  thieves, 
unless  the  man  meant  to  return  her  thimble  by  and 
by.  She  would  willingly  have  given  it  to  him,  for 
she  was  not  at  all  attached  to  her  thimble.  But  the 
idea  that  she  was  among  thieves  prevented  her  from 
feeling  any  comfort.  The  women  saw  that  she 
was  frightened. 


MAGGIE   VISITS  THE   GYPSIES  229 

"We've  nothing  nice  for  a  lady  to  eat,"  said  the 
old  woman,  in  her  coaxing  tone.  "  And  she's  so 
hungry,  sweet  little  lady." 

14  Here,  my  dear,  try  if  you  can  eat  a  bit  of  this," 
said  the  younger  woman,  handing  some  of  the  stew 
on  a  brown  dish  with  an  iron  spoon  to  Maggie,  who 
remembered  that  the  old  woman  had  seemed  angry 
with  her  for  not  liking  the  bread  and  bacon,  and 
dared  not  refuse  the  stew,  though  fear  had  chased 
away  her  appetite.  If  her  father  would  only  come 
by  in  the  gig  and  take  her  up ! 

Her  ideas  about  the  gypsies  had  undergone  a 
rapid  change  in  the  last  five  minutes.  She  had 
begun  to  think  that  they  meant  perhaps  to  kill  her 
as  soon  as  it  was  dark.  It  was  no  use  trying  to  eat 
the  stew,  and  yet  the  thing  she  most  dreaded  was  to 
offend  the  gypsies. 

"  What !  you  don't  like  the  smell  of  it,  my  dear," 
said  the  young  woman,  observing  that  Maggie  did 
not  even  take  a  spoonful  of  the  stew.  "  Try  a  bit, 
come." 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  Maggie,  trying  to  smile  in 
a  friendly  way.  "  I  haven't  time,  I  think ;  it  seems 
getting  darker.  I  think  I  must  go  home  now,  and 
come  again  another  day,  and  then  I  can  bring  you 
a  basket  with  some  jam  tarts  and  things." 

Maggie  rose  from  her  seat;  but  her  hope  sank 


23o  BOOK   FIVE 

when  the  old  gypsy  woman  said,  "  Stop  a  bit,  stop  a 
bit,  little  lady ;  we'll  take  you  home,  all  safe,  when 
we've  done  supper;  you  shall  ride  home,  like  a 
lady." 

Maggie  sat  down  again,  with  little  faith  in  this 
promise,  though  she  presently  saw  the  tall  girl  put- 
ting a  bridle  on  the  donkey,  and  throwing  a  couple 
of  bags  on  his  back. 

"  Now  then,  little  missis,"  said  the  younger  man, 
rising,  and  leading  the  donkey  forward,  "tell  us 
where  you  live ;  what's  the  name  of  the  place  ?  " 

"  Dorlcote  Mill  is  my  home,"  said  Maggie,  ea- 
gerly.    "  My  father  is  Mr.'  Tulliver ;  he  lives  there." 

"What!  a  big  mill  a  little  way  this  side  of  St. 
Ogg's?" 

"Yes,"  said  Maggie.  "Is  it  far  off?  I  think  I 
should  like  to  walk  there,  if  you  please." 

"  No,  no,  it'll  be  getting  dark,  we  must  make 
haste.  And  the  donkey '11  carry  you  as  nice  as  can 
be ;  you'll  see." 

He  lifted  Maggie  as  he  spoke,  and  set  her  on  the 
donkey.  She  felt  relieved  that  it  was  not  the  old 
man  who  seemed  to  be  going  with  her,  but  she  had 
only  a  trembling  hope  that  she  was  really  going 
home. 

"  Here's  your  pretty  bonnet,"  said  the  younger 
woman,  putting  it  on  Maggie's  head;  "and  you'll 


MAGGIE  GOES  BACK   HOME 


232  BOOK   FIVE 

say  we've  been  very  good  to  you,  won't  you  ?  and 
what  a  nice  little  lady  we  said  you  were." 

"  Oh,  yes,  thank  you,"  said  Maggie,  "  I'm  very 
much  obliged  to  you.  But  I  wish  you'd  go  with 
me,  too."  She  thought  anything  was  better  than 
going  with  one  of  the  dreadful  men  alone. 

"  Ah,  you're  fondest  of  me,  aren't  you  ?  "  said  the 
woman.  "  But  I  can't  go ;  you'll  go  too  fast  for 
me." 

It  now  appeared  that  the  man  also  was  to  be 
seated  on  the  donkey,  holding  Maggie  before  him, 
and  no  nightmare  had  ever  seemed  to  her  more 
horrible.  When  the  woman  had  patted  her  on  the 
back,  and  said  "  Good-by,"  the  donkey  set  off  at  a 
rapid  walk  along  the  lane  toward  the  point  Maggie 
had  come  from  an  hour  ago. 

No  one  was  ever  more  terrified  than  poor  Maggie 
in  this  ride  on  a  short-paced  donkey,  with  a  gypsy 
behind  her,  who  considered  that  he  was  earning 
half  a  crown.  The  red  light  of  the  setting  sun 
seemed  to  have  a  dreadful  meaning,  with  which  the 
alarming  bray  of  the  second  donkey  with  the  log  on 
its  foot  must  surely  have  some  connection.  Two 
low-thatched  cottages — the  only  houses  they  passed 
in  this  lane  —  seemed  to  add  to  its  dreariness. 
They  had  no  windows  to  speak  of,  and  the  doors 
were  closed ;  it  was  probable  that  they  were  inhab- 


MAGGIE   VISITS  THE   GYPSIES  233 

ited  by  witches,  and  it  was  a  relief  to  find  that  the 
donkey  did  not  stop  there. 

At  last  —  oh,  sight  of  joy !  —  this  lane,  the  longest 
in  the  world,  was  coming  to  an  end,  was  opening  on 
a  broad  highroad,  where  there  was  actually  a  coach 
passing !  And  there  was  a  finger-post  at  the  cor- 
ner —  she  had  surely  seen  that  finger-post  before  — 
"  To  St.  Ogg's,  2  miles." 

The  gypsy  really  meant  to  take  her  home,  then ; 
he  was  probably  a  good  man,  after  all,  and  might 
have  been  rather  hurt  at  the  thought  that  she  didn't 
like  coming  with  him  alone.  This  idea  became 
stronger  as  she  felt  more  and  more  certain  that  she 
knew  the  road  quite  well.  She  was  thinking  how 
she  might  open  a  conversation  with  the  injured 
gypsy,  when,  as  they  reached  a  cross-road,  Maggie 
caught  sight  of  some  one  coming  on  a  white-faced 
horse. 

"  Oh,  stop,  stop !  "  she  cried  out.  "  There's  my 
father !     Oh,  father,  father  1 " 

The  sudden  joy  was  almost  painful,  and  before 
her  father  reached  her,  she  was  sobbing.  Great  was 
Mr.  Tulliver's  wonder,  for  he  had  made  a  round 
from  Basset,  and  had  not  yet  been  home. 

"Why,  what's  the  meaning  of  this?"  he  said, 
checking  his  horse,  while  Maggie  slipped  from  the 
donkey  and  ran  to  her  father's  stirrup. 


234  BOOK   FIVE 

"  The  little  miss  lost  herself,  I  reckon,"  said  the 
gypsy.  "  She'd  come  to  our  tent  at  the  far  end  of 
Dunlow  Lane,  and  I  was  bringing  her  where  she 
said  her  home  was.  It's  a  good  way  to  come  after 
being  on  the  tramp  all  day." 

"  Oh,  yes,  father,  he's  been  very  good  to  bring  me 
home,"  said  Maggie.     "  A  very  kind,  good  man  !  " 

"  Here,  then,  my  man,"  said  Mr.  Tulliver,  taking 
out  five  shillings.  "  It's  the  best  day's  work  you 
ever  did.  I  couldn't  afford  to  lose  the  little  lass; 
here,  lift  her  up  before  me." 

"  Why,  Maggie,  how's  this,  how's  this  ? "  he  said, 
as  they  rode  along,  while  she  laid  her  head  against 
her  father  and  sobbed.  "  How  came  you  to  be 
rambling  about  and  lose  yourself  ? " 

"  Oh,  father,"  sobbed  Maggie,  "  I  ran  away  be- 
cause I  was  so  unhappy.  Tom  was  so  angry  with 
me.     I  couldn't  bear  it." 

"  Pooh,  pooh,"  said  Mr.  Tulliver,  soothingly,  "  you 
mustn't  think  of  running  away  from  father.  What 
would  father  do  without  his  little  lass  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  I  never  will  again,  father  —  never." 

Mr.  Tulliver  spoke  his  mind  very  strongly  when 
he  reached  home  that  evening ;  and  the  effect  was 
seen  in  the  fact  that  Maggie  never  heard  one  re- 
proach from  her  mother  or  one  taunt  from  Tom 
about  this  foolish  business  of  her  running  away  to 


CALLING  THE   VIOLET 


235 


the  gypsies.  Maggie  was  rather  awe-struck  by  this 
unusual  treatment,  and  sometimes  thought  that  her 
conduct  had  been  too  wicked  to  be  alluded  to. 


res  0  lu'tion,  settled  purpose. 

con  tempt,'  scorn. 

cri'sis,  a  very  important  event;  a  turn- 
ing point. 

A  pol'ly  on,  the  wicked  destroyer  in 
the  book  called  "The  Pilgrim's 
Progress." 

kin'dred,  relations. 

rehearsed,'  repeated  beforehand  for 
practice. 


skew'er,  a  long  pin  for  fastening  meat. 
O'dor  ous,  having  a  strong  smell. 
shock-head 'ed,  having  thick,  tumbled 

hair. 
vict'ual  (vit'tle),  food, 
trea'cle,  molasses, 
en  sued',  followed. 
night'mare,  a  frightful  dream. 
taunt,  teasing  words. 
al  lud'ed  to,  mentioned. 


Mary  Ann  Evans  (Cross)  (181 9-1 880)  was  an  English  nov- 
elist who  wrote  under  the  name  of  George  Eliot.  The  extract 
here  given  is  from  "The  Mill  on  the  Floss."  Her  "  Adam  Bede," 
"  Silas  Marner,"  and  "  Romola  "  are  of  remarkable  interest. 


CALLING  THE   VIOLET. 

LUCY  LARCOM. 

Dear  little  Violet, 

Don't  be  afraid ! 
Lift  your  blue  eyes 

From  the  rock's  mossy  shade ! 
All  the  birds  call  for  you 

Out  of  the  sky  : 
May  is  here,  waiting, 

And  here,  too,  am  I. 


236  BOOK   FIVE 


Why  do  you  shiver  so, 

Violet  sweet  ? 
Soft  is  the  meadow-grass 

Under  my  feet. 
Wrapped  in  your  hood  of  green, 

Violet,  why 
Peep  from  your  earth-door 

So  silent  and  shy  ? 

Trickle  the  little  brooks 

Close  to  your  bed ; 
Softest  of  fleecy  clouds 

Float  overhead ; 
"  Ready  and  waiting  !  " 

The  slender  reeds  sigh : 
"  Ready  and  waiting !  " 

We  sing  —  May  and  I. 

Come,  pretty  Violet, 

Winter's  away : 
Come,  for  without  you 

May  isn't  May. 
Down  through  the  sunshine 

Wings  flutter  and  fly;  — 
Quick,  little  Violet, 

Open  your  eye ! 


THE   PRODIGAL   SON  237 

Hear  the  rain  whisper, 

"  Dear  Violet,  come !  " 
How  can  you  stay 

In  your  underground  home? 
Up  in  the  pine  boughs 

For  you  the  winds  sigh. 
Homesick  to  see  you 

Are  we  —  May  and  I. 

Ha !  though  you  care  not 

For  call  or  for  shout, 
Yon  troop  of  sunbeams 

Are  winning  you  out. 
Now  all  is  beautiful 

Under  the  sky: 
May's  here,  —  and  violets ! 

Winter,  good-by ! 

Lucy  Larcom  (1826-1893)  was  an  American  author,  whose 
poems  and  stories  of  New  England  are  sweet  and  true. 


THE   PRODIGAL   SON. 

A  certain  man  had  two  sons :  and  the  younger 
of  them  said  to  his  father,  "  Father,  give  me  the 
portion  of  thy  substance  that  falleth  to  me."  And 
he  divided  unto  them  his  living. 

And  not  many  days  after  the  younger  son  gath- 
ered all  together,  and  took  his  journey  into  a  far 


238  BOOK   FIVE 

country ;  and  there  he  wasted  his  substance  with 
riotous  living.  And  when  he  had  spent  all,  there 
arose  a  mighty  famine  in  that  country;  and  he 
began  to  be  in  want. 

And  he  went  and  joined  himself  to  one  of  the 
citizens  of  that  country ;  and  he  sent  him  into  his 
fields  to  feed  swine.  And  he  would  fain  have  been 
filled  with  the  husks  that  the  swine  did  eat:  and 
no  man  gave  unto  him. 

But  when  he  came  to  himself  he  said,  "  How 
many  hired  servants  of  my  father's  have  bread 
enough  and  to  spare,  and  I  perish  here  with 
hunger!  I  will  arise  and  go  to  my  father,  and 
will  say  unto  him,  '  Father,  I  have  sinned  against 
heaven,  and  in  thy  sight:  I  am  no  more  worthy 
to  be  called  thy  son :  make  me  as  one  of  thy  hired 
servants.' " 

And  he  arose,  and  came  to  his  father.  But  while 
he  was  yet  afar  off,  his  father  saw  him,  and  was 
moved  with  compassion,  and  ran,  and  fell  on  his 
neck,  and  kissed  him.  And  the  son  said  unto  him, 
"  Father,  I  have  sinned  against  heaven,  and  in  thy 
sight:   I  am  no  more  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son." 

But  the  father  said  to  his  servants,  "  Bring  forth 
quickly  the  best  robe,  and  put  it  on  him ;  and  put 
a  ring  on  his  hand,  and  shoes  on  his  feet :  and  bring 
the  fatted  calf,  and  kill  it,  and  let  us  eat,  and  make 


THE    PRODIGAL   SON  239 

merry :  for  this  my  son  was  dead,  and  is  alive  again  ; 
he  was  lost,  and  is  found."  And  they  began  to  be 
merry. 

Now  his  elder  son  was  in  the  field:  and  as  he 
came  and  drew  nigh  to  the  house,  he  heard  music 
and  dancing.  And  he  called  to  him  one  of  the 
servants,  and  inquired  what  these  things  might  be. 

And  he  said  unto  him,  "  Thy  brother  is  come ; 
and  thy  father  hath  killed  the  fatted  calf,  because 
he  hath  received  him  safe  and  sound."  But  he  was 
angry,  and  would  not  go  in :  and  his  father  came 
out,  and  entreated  him. 

But  he  answered  and  said  to  his  father,  "  Lo, 
these  many  years  do  I  serve  thee,  and  I  never  trans- 
gressed a  commandment  of  thine :  and  yet  thou 
never  gavest  me  a  kid,  that  I  might  make  merry 
with  my  friends :  but  when  this  thy  son  came,  which 
hath  devoured  thy  living,  thou  killedst  for  him  the 
fatted  calf." 

And  he  said  unto  him,  "  Son,  thou  art  ever  with 
me,  and  all  that  is  mine  is  thine.  But  it  was  meet 
to  make  merry  and  be  glad :  for  this  thy  brother 
was  dead,  and  is  alive  again ;  and  was  lost,  and  is 
found." 

This  selection  is  from  "The  Gospel  according  to  St.  Luke," 
chapter  xv.  11-32. 


240  BOOK   FIVE 

TO   VIOLETS. 

ROBERT  HERRICK. 

Welcome,  Maids  of  Honor, 

You  do  bring 

In  the  spring 
And  wait  upon  her. 

She  has  virgins  many, 

Fresh  and  fair ; 

Yet  you  are 
More  sweet  than  any. 

Y'are  the  Maiden  Posies 

And  so  graced 

To  be  placed 
Tore  damask  roses. 

Yet,  though  thus  respected, 

By  and  by 

Ye  do  lie, 
Poor  girls,  neglected. 

Robert  Herrick  (1591-1764)   was  an  English  poet  whose 
songs  and  lyrics  have  never  been  excelled. 


Attempt  the  end  and  never  stand  in  doubt ; 
Nothing's  so  hard  but  search  will  find  it  out. 

—  R.  Herrick. 


WHANG,   THE    MILLER  241 

WHANG,   THE   MILLER. 

OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 

The  Europeans  are  themselves  blind  who  describe 
Fortune  without  sight.  No  first-rate  beauty  had 
ever  finer  eyes,  or  saw  more  clearly.  They  who 
have  no  other  trade  but  seeking  their  fortune,  need 
never  hope  to  find  her.  She  flies  from  her  close 
pursuers,  and  at  last  fixes  on  the  plodding  mechanic 
who  stays  at  home  and  minds  his  business. 

I  am  amazed  that  men  call  her  blind,  when,  by  the 
company  she  keeps,  she  seems  so  very  discerning. 
Wherever  you  see  a  gaming-table,  be  very  sure 
Fortune  is  not  there.  Where  you  see  a  man  whose 
pocket-holes  are  laced  with  gold,  be  satisfied  Fortune 
is  not  there.  In  short,  she  is  ever  seen  accompany- 
ing industry,  and  as  often  trundling  a  wheelbarrow 
as  lolling  in  a  coach  and  six. 

If  you  would  make  Fortune  your  friend,  or,  to 
personise  her  no  longer,  if  you  desire,  my  son,  to  be 
rich,  and  have  money,  be  more  eager  to  save  than 
acquire.  When  people  say  money  is  to  be  got  here, 
and  money  is  to  be  got  there,  take  no  notice.  Mind 
your  own  business ;  stay  where  you  are,  and  secure 
all  you  can  get  without  stirring.  When  you  hear 
that  your  neighbour  has  picked  up  a  purse  of  gold 


242  BOOK   FIVE 

in  the  street,  never  run  out  into  the  same  street, 
looking  about  you  in  order  to  pick  up  such  another; 
or  when  you  are  informed  that  he  has  made  a  fortune 
in  one  branch  of  business,  never  change  your  own  in 
order  to  be  his  rival. 

Do  not  desire  to  be  rich  all  at  once,  but  patiently 
add  farthing  to  farthing.  Perhaps  you  despise  the 
petty  sum ;  and  yet  they  who  want  a  farthing,  and 
have  no  friend  that  will  lend  it  to  them,  think  far- 
things very  good  things.  Whang,  the  foolish  miller, 
when  he  wanted  a  farthing  in  his  distress,  found  that 
no  friend  would  lend  because  they  knew  he  wanted. 
Did  you  ever  read  the  story  of  Whang  in  our  books 
of  Chinese  learning?  of  him  who,  despising  small 
sums,  and  grasping  at  all,  lost  even  what  he  had  ? 

Whang,  the  miller,  was  naturally  avaricious.  No- 
body loved  money  better  than  he,  or  more  respected 
those  that  had  it.  When  people  would  talk  of  a 
rich  man  in  company,  Whang  would  say,  "  I  know 
him  very  well ;  he  and  I  have  been  long  acquainted ; 
he  and  I  are  intimate."  But  if  ever  a  poor  man  was 
mentioned,  he  had  not  the  least  knowledge  of  the 
man ;  he  might  be  very  well  for  aught  he  knew ;  but 
he  was  not  fond  of  many  acquaintances,  and  loved 
to  choose  his  company. 

Whang,  however,  with  all  his  eagerness  for  riches, 
was  in  reality  poor.     He  had  nothing  but  the  profits 


WHANG,   THE   MILLER  243 

of  his  mill  to  support  him.  But  though  these  were 
small,  they  were  certain.  While  his  mill  stood  and 
went,  he  was  sure  of  eating ;  and  his  frugality  was 
such,  that  he  every  day  laid  some  money  by,  which 
he  would  at  intervals  count  and  contemplate  with 
much  satisfaction.  Yet  still  his  acquisitions  were 
not  equal  to  his  desires.  He  only  found  himself 
above  want,  whereas  he  desired  to  be  possessed  of 
affluence. 

One  day,  as  he  was  indulging  these  wishes,  he 
was  informed  that  a  neighbour  of  his  had  found  a 
pan  of  money  under  ground,  having  dreamed  of  it 
three  nights  in  succession  before.  These  tidings 
were  daggers  to  the  heart  of  poor  Whang.  "  Here 
am  I,"  says  he,  "toiling  and  moiling  from  morning 
till  night  for  a  few  paltry  farthings,  while  neighbour 
Hunks  goes  quietly  to  bed  and  dreams  himself  into 
thousands  before  morning.  Oh,  that  I  could  dream 
like  him !  With  what  pleasure  I  would  dig  around 
the  pan !  How  slyly  would  I  carry  it  home  —  not 
even  my  wife  should  see  me!  And  then,  oh  the 
pleasure  of  thrusting  one's  hand  into  a  heap  of  gold 
up  to  the  elbow ! " 

Such  reflections  only  served  to  make  the  miller 
unhappy.  He  discontinued  his  former  industry,  he 
became  quite  disgusted  with  small  gains,  and  his 
customers  began  to  forsake  him.      Every  day  he 


244  BOOK    FIVE 

repeated  the  wish,  and  every  night  laid  himself  down 
in  order  to  dream.  Fortune,  that  was  for  a  long 
time  unkind,  at  last,  however,  seemed  to  smile  upon 
his  distresses,  and  indulged  him  with  the  wished-for 
vision. 

He  dreamed  that  under  a  certain  part  of  the 
foundation  of  his  mill  there  was  concealed  a  mon- 
strous pan  of  gold  and  diamonds  buried  deep  in  the 
ground  and  covered  with  a  large,  flat  stone.  He 
rose  up,  thanked  the  stars  that  were  at  last  pleased 
to  take  pity  on  his  sufferings,  and  concealed  his 
good  luck  from  every  person  —  as  is  usual  in  money 
dreams  —  in  order  to  have  the  vision  repeated  the 
two  succeeding  nights,  by  which  he  should  be  cer- 
tain of  its  veracity.  His  wishes  in  this  also  were 
answered.  He  still  dreamed  of  the  same  pan  of 
money,  in  the  very  same  place. 

Now,  therefore,  it  was  past  a  doubt.  So  getting 
up  early  the  third  morning,  he  repaired,  alone,  with 
a  mattock  in  his  hand,  to  the  mill,  and  began  to 
undermine  that  part  of  the  wall  which  the  vision 
directed.  The  first  omen  of  success  that  he  met 
was  a  broken  mug.  Digging  still  deeper,  he  turned 
up  a  house  tile,  quite  new  and  entire.  At  last,  after 
much  digging,  he  came  to  the  broad,  flat  stone,  but 
so  large  that  it  was  beyond  one  man's  strength  to 
remove  it. 


WHANG,  THE   MILLER  245 

"  Here,"  cried  he,  in  raptures,  to  himself,  "  here  it 
is !  Under  this  stone  there  is  room  for  a  very  large 
pan  of  diamonds  indeed !  I  must  go  home  to  my 
wife  and  tell  her  the  whole  affair,  and  get  her  to 
assist  me  in  turning  it  up." 

Away,  therefore,  he  went,  and  acquainted  his  wife 
with  every  circumstance  of  their  good  fortune.  Her 
delight  on  this  occasion  may  be  easily  imagined. 
She  flew  round  his  heck,  and  embraced  him  in  an 
agony  of  joy.  But  those  raptures,  however,  did  not 
delay  their  eagerness  to  know  the  exact  sum.  Re- 
turning, therefore,  speedily  together  to  the  place 
where  Whang  had  been  digging,  there  they  found 
—  not  indeed  the  expected  treasure,  but  the  mill, 
their  only  support,  undermined  and  fallen. 


pur  su'er,  one  who  chases  another, 
dis  cern'ing,  sharp-sighted. 
ac  com'pa  ny  ing,  going  with, 
per/son  ize,  to  speak  of  as  a  person. 
av  a  ri'cious,  greedy  of  gain ;  miserly, 
fru  gal'ity,  saving  nature;  thrift. 
ac  qui  si'tions,  things  gained. 


con'tem  plate,  look  at ;  think  about. 

ve  rac'i  ty,  truth. 

moil'ing,  working  hard. 

pal'try,  of  little  value. 

af 'flu  ence,  wealth. 

cir'cum  stance,  fact. 


Oliver  Goldsmith  was  born  in  Ireland  in  1728,  and  died  in 
London  in  1774.  His  style  is  simple  and  graceful.  His  "The 
Vicar  of  Wakefield "  is  said  to  be  the  best  known  novel  in  the 
English  language.     "  She  Stoops  to  Conquer  "  is  his  best  comedy. 


The  only  way  to  have  a  friend  is  to  be  one. 

—  R.  W.  Emerson. 


246  BOOK   FIVE 

BENJAMIN    FRANKLIN 

FROM   HIS  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

This  is  the  story  which  Benjamin  Franklin,  one 
of  America's  greatest  men,  tells  of  himself:  — 

"  I  was  the  youngest  son  (of  the  family),  and  was 
born  in  Boston,  New  England.  At  ten  years  old  I 
was  taken  to  assist  my  father  in  his  business,  which 
was  that  of  a  tallow-chandler  and  soap-boiler.  I  dis- 
liked the  trade,  and  had  a  strong  inclination  for  the 
sea,  but  my  father  declared  against  it.  However, 
living  near  the  water,  I  was  much  in  and  about  it, 
learnt  early  to  swim  well,  and  to  manage  boats. 

"  There  was  a  salt-marsh  that  bounded  part  of  the 
mill-pond  on  the  edge  of  which,  at  high  water,  we 
used  to  stand  to  fish  for  minnows.  My  proposal 
was  to  build  a  wharf  there  fit  for  us  to  stand  upon, 
and  I  showed  my  comrades  a  large  heap  of  stones 
which  were  intended  for  a  new  house  near  the 
marsh.  In  the  evening,  when  the  workmen  were 
gone,  we  brought  them  all  away  and  built  our  little 
wharf.  The  next  morning,  the  workmen  were  sur- 
prised at  missing  the  stones.  We  were  discovered 
and  complained  of ;  several  of  us  were  corrected  by 
our  fathers ;  and  though  I  pleaded  the  usefulness  of 
the  work,  mine  convinced  me  that  nothing  was  use- 
ful which  was  not  honest. 


BENJAMIN    FRANKLIN  247 

"  From  a  child  I  was  fond  of  reading,  and  all  the 
little  money  that  came  into  my  hands  was  laid  out 
in  books.  This  inclination  at  length  determined 
my  father  to  make  me  a  printer.  My  brother  James 
returned  from  England  with  a  press  and  letters  to 
set  up  his  business  in  Boston.  In  a  little  time  I 
became  a  useful  hand  to  my  brother. 

"  I  now  took  a  fancy  to  poetry,  and  made  some  little 
pieces.  My  brother  encouraged  me  and  put  me  on 
writing  ballads,  and  when  they  were  printed  he  sent 
me  about  the  town  to  sell  them. 

"  Though  a  brother,  he  considered  himself  as  my 
master,  and  me  as  his  apprentice,  and  had  often 
beaten  me,  which  I  took  amiss;  and  thinking  my 
apprenticeship  very  tedious,  I  was  continually  wish- 
ing for  some  opportunity  of  shortening  it.  When 
he  found  I  would  leave  him,  he  took  care  to  prevent 
my  getting  employment  in  any  other  printing-house 
of  the  town,  by  going  round  and  speaking  to  every 
master,  who  accordingly  refused  to  give  me  work. 

"  I  then  thought  of  going  to  New  York,  as  the 
nearest  place  where  there  was  a  printer,  and  in  three 
days  I  found  myself  near  three  hundred  miles  from 
home,  a  boy  of  but  seventeen,  without  knowledge 
of  any  person  in  the  place,  and  with  very  little 
money  in  my  pocket.  I  offered  my  service  to  the 
printer,  old  Mr.  William  Bradford.     He  could  give 


248  BOOK   FIVE 

me  no  employment,  but  said :  '  My  son  at  Phila- 
delphia has  lately  lost  his  principal  hand  by  death. 
If  you  go  thither,  I  believe  he  may  employ  you.'  " 

Franklin  goes  on  to  tell  us  of  his  journey  to 
Philadelphia  and  how  very  hungry  he  was  when  he 
reached  there.  He  bought  "  three  great  puffy  rolls  " 
from  a  baker.  There  was  no  room  for  them  in  his 
pockets ;  so,  as  he  says,  he  "  walked  off  with  a  roll 
under  each  arm,  and  eating  the  other.  Thus  I 
went  up  Market  Street/passing  by  the  door  of  my 
future  wife's  father,  when  she  saw  me,  and  thought 
I  made  a  most  awkward,  ridiculous  appearance." 

After  a  year  in  Philadelphia  Franklin  went  to 
England.  "  I  spent  about  eighteen  months  in  Lon- 
don; most  of  the  time  I  worked  hard  at  my  busi- 
ness and  spent  but  little  upon  myself.  My  good 
friend  Mr.  Denham  was  about  to  return  to  Philadel- 
phia. He  proposed  to  take  me  over  as  his  clerk, 
to  keep  his  books,  copy  his  letters,  and  attend  the 
store.  The  thing  pleased  me,  for  I  was  grown  tired 
of  London." 

When  Mr.  Denham  died  Franklin  went  back  to 
printing.  He  and  another  young  man  set  up  in 
business  for  themselves,  though  they  had  not  much 
money.  Franklin  says-:  "We  had  scarcely  opened 
our  letters  and  put  our  press  in  order  before  an 
acquaintance  of  mine  brought  a  countryman  to  us 


BENJAMIN   FRANKLIN  249 

whom  he  had  met  in  the  street  inquiring  for  a 
printer.  All  our  cash  was  now  expended,  and  this 
countryman's  five  shillings  gave  me  more  pleasure 
than  any  crown  I  have  since  earned. 

"In  1732  I  first  published  my  Almanac,  under 
the  name  of  Richard  Saunders  ;  it  was  commonly 
called  '  Poor  Richard's  Almanac'  I  filled  all  the 
little  spaces  between  the  remarkable  days  in  the 
calendar  with  proverbs  which  contained  the  wisdom 
of  many  ages  and  nations,  as,  '  It  is  hard  for  an 
empty  sack  to  stand  upright.' 

"  I  considered  my  newspaper,  also,  as  another 
means  of  giving  instruction." 

At  that  time  almost  all  books  had  to  be  brought 
from  England.  Franklin  proposed  to  a  number  of 
his  friends  who  had  a  club  room  that,  as  he  says, 
"we  should  all  of  us  bring  our  books  to  that  room, 
each  of  us  being  at  liberty  to  borrow  such  as  he 
wished  to  read  at  home."  In  this  way  was  started 
what  afterward  became  the  public  library  of  Phila- 
delphia. 

The  first  fire  department  was  Franklin's  idea,  too. 
He  found  about  thirty  people  to  join  him  at  first. 
Each  one  had  "  to  keep  always  in  good  order  and 
fit  for  use  a  certain  number  of  leather  buckets,  with 
strong  bags  and  baskets  (for  packing  and  transport- 
ing of  goods),  which  were  to  be  brought  to  every 


250  BOOK   FIVE 

fire ;  and  we  agreed  to  meet  once  a  month  and 
spend  a  social  evening  together."  After  a  time  so 
many  people  wanted  to  join  this  "  Union  Fire  Com- 
pany," as  it  was  called,  that  other  companies  had  to 
be  formed. 

Franklin  always  lived  in  a  plain  and  simple  way. 
He  describes  his  life  when  he  was  trying  to  make 
his  way  in  business :  "  My  breakfast  was  a  long  time 
bread  and  milk,  and  I  ate  it  out  of  a  two-penny 
earthen  porringer,  with  a  pewter  spoon ;  but  one 
morning  I  found  it  in  a  china  bowl  with  a  spoon  of 
silver !  They  had  been  bought  for  me  by  my  wife, 
and  had  cost  her  the  enormous  sum  of  three  and 
twenty  shillings,  for  which  she  had  no  other  excuse 
but  that  she  thought  her  husband  deserved  a  silver 
spoon  and  china  bowl  as  well  as  any  of  his  neigh- 
bors." 

Franklin  wished  to  live  "without  committing 
any  fault  at  any  time."  To  do  this,  he  says :  u  I 
made  a  little  book,  in  which  I  allotted  a  page  for 
each  of  the  virtues.  These  names  of  virtues  were 
temperance,  silence,  order,  industry,  etc.  I  ruled 
each  page  with  red  ink  so  as  to  have  seven  col- 
umns, one  for  each  day  of  the  week.  I  crossed 
these  columns  with  thirteen  red  lines,  marking  the 
beginning  of  each  line  with  the  first  letter  of  one  of 
the  virtues."     Every  night,  he  tells  us,  he  marked 


BENJAMIN    FRANKLIN  251 

"by  a  little  black  spot  every  fault  I  found  to  have 
been  committed  respecting  that  virtue  upon  that 
day.  At  length,  being  employed  in  voyages  and 
business  abroad,"  he  was  so  busy  he  had  to  give 
up  marking  his  faults  every  day ;  but,  he  writes,  "  I 
always  carried  my  little  book  with  me." 

We  are  so  used  to  electric  cars  and  electric  lights 
nowadays  that  it  is  hard  to  realize  that  people  at 
one  time  knew  almost  nothing  about  electricity. 
Franklin  was  much  interested  in  studying  the  sub- 
ject, but  when  he  said  the  lightning  in  the  sky  was 
electricity,  even  people  who  thought  they  knew  a 
good  deal  about  the  matter  laughed  at  him. 

He  made  a  silk  kite,  with  a  wire  at  one  end  and 
at  the  other  a  string  to  which  a  key  was  attached. 
When  the  next  thunder  storm  came  he  flew  the  kite. 
The  wire  attracted  the  lightning,  and  when  Frank- 
lin touched  his  knuckles  to  the  key,  little  sparks 
leaped  out.  In  this  way  he  proved  that  the  light- 
ning was  the  same  as  the  electricity  they  had  often 
seen  him  produce  by  rubbing  a  glass  tube.  Frank- 
lin put  his  knowledge  about  lightning  to  use  by 
inventing  the  lightning-rod.  This  invention  made 
him  famous  in  Europe  as  well  as  in  America. 

He  was  very  witty  and  always  had  some  clever 
answer  ready  on  occasion,  but  he  never  minded  if 
some  one  else  was  more  clever  or  persuasive  than  he. 


252  BOOK   FIVE 

He  liked  to  tell  a  good  story  even  against  himself. 
When  the  Reverend  Mr.  Whitefield,  a  famous 
preacher,  was  trying  to  get  money  enough  to  build 
a  home  for  orphans  in  Georgia,  Franklin  disap- 
proved of  some  parts  of  the  plan,  and  so  refused  to 
give  anything.  Not  long  afterward  he  went  to  hear 
Mr.  Whitefield  preach.  He  soon  saw  that  a  collec- 
tion was  to  be  taken,  but  told  himself  they  should 
get  nothing  from  him. 

As  he  tells  the  story :  "  I  had  in  my  pocket  a 
handful  of  copper  money,  three  or  four  silver  dollars, 
and  five  pistoles  in  gold.  As  he  proceeded  I  began 
to  soften,  and  concluded  to  give  the  coppers.  An- 
other stroke  of  his  oratory  made  me  ashamed  of  that, 
and  determined  me  to  give  the  silver;  and  he  fin- 
ished so  admirably,  that  I  emptied  my  pocket  wholly 
into  the  collector's  dish,  gold  and  all." 

Gradually  Franklin  became  well  known  in  public 
affairs.  "  My  first  promotion,"  he  says,  "  was  my 
being  chosen  clerk  of  the  General  Assembly;  Colo- 
nel Spotswood,  late  Governor  of  Virginia,  and  then 
Postmaster  General,  being  dissatisfied  with  the  con- 
duct of  his  deputy  at  Philadelphia,  took  from  him 
the  commission  and  offered  it  to  me.  I  accepted  it 
readily,  and  found  it  of  great  advantage.  I  was, 
upon  his  (Colonel  Spotswood's)  death,  appointed 
with   Mr.  William   Hunter  to  succeed  him." 


BENJAMIN    FRANKLIN  253 

Franklin  showed  much  wisdom  and  good  sense 
as  adviser  to  the  colonies  at  the  time  of  the  Revo- 
lutionary War.  Before  war  actually  broke  out  he 
"  drew  a  plan  for  the  union  of  all  the  colonies  under 
one  government  for  defence  and  other  purposes. 
Many  objections  were  started,  but  they  were  all  over- 
come and  the  plan  was  agreed  to  and  copies  ordered 
to  be  (sent)  to  the  Assemblies  of  the  provinces ;  the 
Assemblies  did  not  adopt  it."  He  went  twice  to 
England  to  try  to  keep  peace  between  the  king  and 
the  colonies,  and  after  war  broke  out  he  was  sent  to 
France,  where  he  made  a  treaty  that  gained  the  aid 
of  the  French  for  America. 

It  is  a  pity  that  Franklin's  own  story  of  his  life 
ends  with  his  trip  to  England,  just  before  the  war, 
but  his  letters  to  different  people  tell  us  many  things 
about  him.  He  was  a  member  of  the  Continental 
Congress  and  one  of  the  signers  of  the  Declaration 
of  Independence.  When  the  war  came  to  an  end, 
Franklin  helped  decide  what  the  terms  of  peace 
should  be,  and  his  name  is  signed  to  the  treaty  that 
was  finally  agreed  upon.  The  people  of  Pennsyl- 
vania chose  him  their  governor,  and  though  he  ac- 
cepted the  office  for  a  year,  his  services  could  not  be 
confined  to  one  state.  He  belonged  to  the  whole 
country.  When  a  convention  met  to  draw  up 
the   Constitution   of    the    United    States,   he    was 


254  BOOK   FIVE 

present  as  a  member,  though  he  was  now  an  old 
man. 

He  died  April  1 7,  1 790,  and  was  mourned  by  not 
only  his  own  country  but  also  by  foreign  nations. 
The  members  of  the  French  Assembly  wore  mourn- 
ing badges  for  three  days.  Turgot,  a  famous 
French  statesman,  said,  "  He  snatched  the  lightning 
from  the  skies,  and  the  sceptre  from  tyrants." 


ba'llad,    a    simple    poem    telling    a 

story. 
ap  pren'tice,  a  young  man  placed  with 

a  tradesman  to  learn  his  trade, 
te'di  ous,  tiresome. 
ac  quaint'ance,  a  person  whom  one 

knows. 


trans  port'ing,  carrying  from  one  place 

to  another. 
pew'ter,  a  metal,  easily  melted,  made 

from  a  mixture  of  lead  and  tin. 
al  lot'ted,  set  apart. 
pis  tole',  a  gold  coin,  worth  about  $4. 
dep'u  ty,  one  who  acts  for  another. 


SPRING   GREETING1 

SIDNEY   LANIER 

Chime  out,  thou  little  song  of  Spring, 
Float  in  the  blue  skies  ravishing. 
Thy  song-of-life  a  joy  doth  bring 

That's  sweet,  albeit  fleeting. 
Float  on  the  Spring-winds  e'en  to  my  home : 
And  when  thou  to  a  rose  shalt  come 
That  hath  begun  to  show  her  bloom, 

Say,  I  send  her  greeting ! 

Sidney  Lanier  (1 842-1 881)  was  born  in  Macon,  Georgia.    His 
poems  are  full  of  grace  and  melody. 

1  Copyright,  1884,  Mary  D.  Lanier.     Used  by  permission. 


THE   SPACIOUS   FIRMAMENT   ON    HIGH         255 


THE   SPACIOUS    FIRMAMENT 
ON   HIGH. 

JOSEPH  ADDISON. 

The  spacious  firmament  on  high, 
With  all  the  blue  ethereal  sky, 
And  spangled  heavens,  a  shining  frame, 
Their  great  Original  proclaim  ; 
The  unwearied  sun  from  day  to  day 
Does  his  Creator's  power  display, 
And  publishes  to  every  land 
The  work  of  an  Almighty  hand. 

Soon  as  the  evening  shades  prevail, 
The  moon  takes  up  the  wondrous  tale, 
And  nightly  to  the  listening  earth 
Repeats  the  story  of  her  birth ; 
Whilst  all  the  stars  that  round  her  burn, 
And  all  the  planets,  in  their  turn, 
Confirm  the  tidings  as  they  roll, 
And  spread  the  truth  from  pole  to  pole. 

What  though,  in  solemn  silence,  all 
Move  round  the  dark  terrestrial  ball ! 
What  though  no  real  voice  nor  sound 
Amid  their  radiant  orbs  be  found! 


256 


BOOK    FIVE 


In  reason's  ear  they  all  rejoice, 
And  utter  forth  a  glorious  voice, 
Forever  singing,  as  they  shine, 
"  The  hand  that  made  us  is  divine." 


Spa'ciOUS,  extending  far  and  wide. 

fir'ma  ment,  the  heavens. 

e  the're  al,  belonging  to  the  upper  air. 


plan'ets,  the  moving  heavenly  bodies 

(except  the  moon). 
ter  res'tri  al,  of  the  earth;  earthly. 


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